Butterfly
by MsBBSue
Summary: <html><head></head>She saw it all happen; him hollering out terrible things then brutally attacking that man. However, when they left him, she could not help but feel obligated to help him. Alternate universe. Be warned; this story has very strong language. MA After chapter eight.</html>
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: I do not own anything of the Walking Dead series (both comic book and television), and I do not claim to own any of these characters other than my own original character. This is a story I have written and I am in no way, shape, or form making any sort of profit from it. I am poor. I might even be more so now having written this.**

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><p><strong>Just another warning; this has strong language in it. <strong>

**If you feel as though the rating should be raised, I will do so. I do not in any way, shape or form endorse the uttering of racial slurs at any time, event, or even in the privacy of one's home. I am sorry if any of this brings offence to those reading, however, keep in mind the character who is saying this stuff. It is kind of important for the character's integrity and to keep it 'cannon'. **

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><p><strong>Chapter One<strong>

Shots fire; they're close—too close. I lower myself on the filtering system of the roof and survey the area. Geeks didn't use guns, this had to be human. I slowly creep towards the edge and drop to my stomach. On the roof below there were people racing outside as one stood shooting out at the geeks.

"Hey Dixon, you crazy?" a man hollers as he and five others emerge from a door. I keep my eyes open; this could have a sudden turn.

"Hey," the man with the rifles calls back. "You ought to be more polite to a man with a gun. Huh?" He jumps off the ledge of the building and back onto the roof with a grunt. "Only common sense," he adds with a grin.

"Man, you wastin' bullets we ain't even got, man," a darker man shouts as he rushes closer to this Dixon—though not straying too far from the others. "And you're brining even more of them down here on our ass! Man, just chill."

Dixon shakes his head. "Bad enough I got this taco bender on my ass all day; now I got to take orders from you?" His brow raises and his face stretches out slightly. "I don't think so bro. That'll be the day."

"That'll be the day?" the darker man repeats. I feel myself cringe. There was no way for this confrontation to end well. "You got something you want to tell me?" he asks, his hands pointing to Dixon and then back to himself.

"Hey, T-Dog, just leave it, man—,"

"No," T-Dog says while raising his hand as if to stop the other's words.

"All right, it ain't worth it," the man says. "Now Merle," he says carefully, "just relax, okay? We've got enough trouble."

The two men ignore the third. "You want to know the day?"

"Yeah," T-Dog says with a nod as Dixon takes a step forward.

"I'll tell you the day Mr. _Yo_—," he brings his free hand up in a thuggish way, "—it's the day I take orders from a nigger—,"

The man takes a swing at Dixon only to be rewarded with the butt-end of the rifle hitting him square in the face. I shift slightly on the hot metal below as I think about leaving before things could get worse—but where would I go?

"Hey, come on—that's enough," a new voice calls over the others. I dare not look down as I can still hear them fighting.

"Stop it!" I hear a woman holler as metal rings out. This was the ugly part of what was left of the world. People fighting people—and at what cost; sometimes, there didn't even have to be one. Everyone was fair game. "Get off him!" the woman hollers again… or was it a new voice?

I cover my ears and close my eyes as all I hear are fists smacking into meat. My heart prays for the T-Dog character to be on top, but my head know who it really is sending out the punches. That racist prick wouldn't even give the black man a chance little lone a swing.

There's silence for a quick second and I raise myself high enough to look down at the scene. I feel my heart drop as Dixon sits straddled on the man, a gun drawn and sitting mere inches away from the beaten face of the underdog.

"N-n-no, please—please," a blonde woman begs.

I hold my breath as Dixon stares at the man below him. His eyes rise from the dark face and look to those of his group and then back down. I want to holler for him to stop—but I can't give away my position. Suddenly, I hear him spit and I curl my nose up.

Dixon lets out a grunt. "Yeah," he growls. "All right; we're gonna have ourselves a little—," he rises, "—powwow. Huh?" He looks to his group. "Talk about whose in charge." He takes a breath. "I vote me! Anyone else?"

I watch as three people drag T-Dog away. "Huh?" He shifts of his feet and raises his left hand up. "Democracy time, ya'll; show o' hands—huh. All in favour," he hollers. "Hm," he grunts as the others aid their friend. "Come on, let's see 'em," he calls as one man raises his hand.

"Oh, come on," the blonde says with a hopeless cry at the rising of the man's hand. The man lowers his head, not willing to look back at her.

"All in favour," Dixon says with a grin, his gun still ready to take aim and fire at a moment's notice. "Yeah," he says as he waves the gun amongst the group. Another man raises his hand as a different woman does the same with her own twist; a middle finger aimed in Dixon's direction. "Yeah," Dixon says with a smile, "that's _good_." The blonde finally raises her hand. "Yeah," Dixon says with a nod of superiority. "That means I'm the boss, right?" He watches them for a second. "Yeah… Anybody else? Hm, anybody—,"

"Yeah," a voice cuts him off. Suddenly, Dixon is on the ground and a new man places his knee on his chest. It was a police officer. I watch as he cuffs Dixon's hand to one of the exposed pipes on the roof. He then releases a grunt as he pulls Dixon up.

"Who the hell are you, man?" Dixon growls; he was trying to appear bigger than what he is.

"I'm Officer Friendly," the officer says in a warning whisper. He turns away and grabs a gun and pulls at it—whether adding bullets or disassembling it, I am unsure; my eyes won't carry me that far. "Look here, Merle. Thing are different now. There are no niggers anymore. No dumb-as-shit, inbred, white-trash fools either. Only dark meat and white meat; there's us and the dead. We survive this by pulling together—not apart."

"Screw you, man," Merle Dixon says with a careless expression on his face.

The officer sighs. "I can see you make a habit of missing the point ."

"Yeah," Merle says, his voice disinterested. "Well, screw you twice."

Officer Friendly quickly brings the gun to Merle's head. "Ought to be polite to a man with a gun," he uses the man's own words against him. He cocks the gun. "Only common sense," he adds.

"You wouldn't," Merle says; fear overrides his careless attitude, "you're a cop."

Officer Friendly lowers the gun and leans into Merle's face. "All I am anymore is a man looking for his wife and son. Anybody gets in the way of that's gonna lose. I'll give you a moment to think about that." The officer pats Merle Dixon down ands takes something out of his pocket. He waves it in Dixon's face and then examines the man's face. "Got something on your nose there," he says before flicking Dixon's nose and rising.

"What are you going to do; arrest me?" He chuckles. "Hey!" Dixon calls as the officer tosses his find off the roof. "What are you doing? Man, that was my stuff! Hey!" He grunts as he struggles to get free. Officer Friendly looks to the cuffed man and then walks away. "If I get loose, you better pray!" he calls out as if he believes full well he'll be free in no time. "Yeah, you hear me, you pig." Dixon hollers. "You hear me?"

"Yeah, your voice carries—,"

"You hear me, you filthy pig?"

I lower myself back down. The show was over. Officer Friendly saved the day and bad boy Dixon was off the prowl. I take a deep breath and sigh. Geeks, wild animals, people; they were all things to fear. I rest my hands on my forehead as I look to the clouded sky. What good was this world if a group of familiars could turn on each other on a dime?

I suppress a cough as my lungs burn to be freed from the phlegm built up in them. I was only here for antibiotics. I never thought I would be on a roof trying to convince myself not to jump. I roll over onto my belly and cover my face with my forearms as I release my cough. It's not as loud as I had anticipated, and when the spell is over, I hear voices below.

"How's that signal?

"Like Merle's brain; weak."

I close my eyes. "Keep trying," the first voice says.

"Why; there's nothing they can do. Not a damn thing," I hear a woman argue.

"Got some people outside the city, is all," the first voice says. "There's no refugee centre. That's a pipe dream…" That it was.

"Then she's right," Officer Friendly says, "we're on our own. It's up to us to find a way out."

"Good luck with that," Dixon pipes up. "These streets ain't safe in this part of town, from what I hear." He wanted attention. "Ain't that right sugar tits? Hey, honey bun, what you say you get me outta these cuffs, we go somewhere and bump some uglies?" I smirk; men. "Gonna die anyway," he adds as if it will help his case.

"I'd rather," the woman—I presume he was speaking to—says.

"Rug muncher," Dixon says, his voice almost soft and wistful, "figured as much."

I take another deep breath and hear the wheeze my lungs release. My hand reaches into my jacket's breast pocket and pull out a bottle of pills; Amoxicillin. I take the cap off and take a double dose before capping the bottle and putting it back carelessly into my pocket. At least medication was free now… though, it was getting harder and harder to find.

After a bit, I feel my eyelids weigh heavily. That was the problem with antibiotics; they made one tired. I stretch my legs out below me and take a new breath as I nuzzle my head into my arms. It doesn't take long before I am whisked away into the world of sleep.

"Come, on! Let's go, let's go!" I hear a voice holler and I startle out of my dream. I roll over and give a yawn.

"Hey, you can't leave me here!" another voice calls out. "Morales, you can't leave me like this, man! Hey, T-Dog! No, man, you can't leave me, man! You can't leave me here, not like this! You can't, man, it's not human!" I peek over the edge and see the two men from the fight before, everyone else were gone. "Come on, don't do this," Dixon begs as he looks up at the darker man halfway to the entrance of the building.

T-Dog lets out a growl of frustration as he battles himself on morals. I would have left him—no one's going to fight me and live to tell about it. "Come on, T!" Dixon pleads and, quickly, T-Dog races back to Dixon. Just as he lowers his bag, his footing slips and he falls down to the floor; whatever in his hand slips from his fingers. The two men watch as it flies and shines in the sun's light. Suddenly, I feel a smirk pull at my lips; it was the key.

"You son of a bitch; you did that on purpose!"

"I-I didn't mean to—,"

"You lie! You did it on purpose!" Dixon repeats.

"It was an accident," T-Dog says as he hesitantly makes his way back to the door.

"Don't leave me!" Dixon hollers as he pulls at his cuffed hand.

"I'm sorry," T-Dog says before he shuffles through the door.

"Damn you all! Don't leave me!" Dixon pulls and kicks at the pipe keeping him grounded as he continues to scream and holler at the now gone group. "You're going to rot in hell! You're going to rot in hell!" He slams his feet onto the pipe and pulls his wrist. "Don't—," he kicks the pipe, "—leave—," again, "—me!" Dixon's feet drop and he tosses his head back. "You'll rot in hell!" he hollers again.

I press my cheek on the air filter I lay on. How long would it be before he'd pass out? I look back down at him as he sobs in his free hand. I press my lips together. He had a point; _this_ was not human. They locked him up like an animal and left him for dead. Racist or not, that was unforgivable.

Slowly, I lower myself to the pipe I climbed up from and quietly approach Dixon's limp body. I casually reach into my jeans' pocket and pull out a pack of smokes. I place one between my lips and light it with a match before tossing it over the edge.

"Whose there?" he calls out as my feet sound on the cement. I slowly come into view as I blow out smoke from my mouth. "You got one of those for me?" he asks as his eyes lazily land on me.

I take a deep breath and narrow my eyes. "Do you smoke?"

"When the time's right," he says before a sigh.

I furrow my brow and make a face. "I can't. It'd be different if you smoked regularly," I say with the smoke bouncing on my lips. Dixon narrows his eyes. "It's an addiction and this is the end of the world." I shake my head as I blow the smoke out of my lungs. "I might not find another carton—,"

"It's an addiction that will kill you—,"

"So will being cuffed to a pipe on a roof," I say with a shrug. "We both chose our deaths, didn't we?"

Dixon shakes his head. "I've been murdered," he says with a sickened face. "I didn't choose this."

I smirk and take another puff as I approach him. I blow the smoke in his face. "Murder, poetic justice—whatever you want to call it," I nearly whisper. "You asked for it and, frankly, it's quite beautiful."

Merle watches me for a moment and I rise. "You gonna to help me out or just keep blabbin'?"

I raise my brow. "I was thinking I would finish my cigarette before I decided." I give a forced shiver. "It's been a little long since I've had one—you wouldn't want me making rash decisions while I'm hurting for my nicotine, now would you?"

Merle scoffs. I open my pack again and approach him slowly. I put a brown filtered cigarette between his lips and bring my cherry close to the tip. He draws a breath in making his smoke catch and I step away. "Just in case I decide against you," I say through the side of my mouth and he lets out a chuckle.

"You think you're tough, lil' girl?" he asks as he takes the cigarette away from his mouth. I give a shrug. "I've killed men twice your size. You think you can take me—," he bows his head and gestures his free hand in an inviting way, "—be my guest."

I shake my head. "It won't be me who kills you." I nudge my head to the door leading into the building. "Those things… they'll do it for me."

"Bitch," he growls after a quick draw of his smoke. I smirk. He watches me for a moment. "What are you? Some kind of squaw; no doubt—just look at those cheekbones…" he lets out a chuckle. "You take pride in your land, Indian? Gonna give a tear when I drop my garbage to the ground?" Merle shakes his head with a chuckle as I remain expressionless. I turn away and begin walking to the door.

"Sacagawea," he calls out. "Come on, I'm just playin'," he says with a laugh as he leans as far away from the pipe as he can get. "Come on," he beckons, "we're friends, aren't we?" He smirks. "You gave me a smoke…" His light eyes watch me for a moment as I debate on coming back. I slowly step towards him and as I examine the cuff on his wrist, he leans into my ear. "You're a pretty lil' squaw, aren't you—," I pull away and glare at him. "Oh, take the complement," he says with a smile.

I stand up and take a step away, utter disgust keeping me from any sort of sympathy towards him. I take another puff of my smoke and toss it at him as he squirms to get the burning end away from him. "You're a terrible person—,"

"No," he says with an exaggerated over pronunciation as he shakes his head. I watch as he sits helpless. "I was raised this way," he says. "You can't blame the child—it's the parent's fault."

"You're well past the age that type of thinking can be blamed on others." I push my dark hair over my shoulders as he looks up at me, his smirk slowly disappearing. "How would you like it if I called you a redneck?"

"I'd call you a redskin," he says, his chin rising as his eyes narrow.

I look away from him. I take a deep breath and then yield to another coughing fit. As the coughs stop, I straighten and press my lips together. "I guess this is the point where we part ways," I say with a shrug.

"You'd be murdering me."

I shake my head calmly. "You'd be doing it yourself. Suicide, if you want to put a name on it." I scratch the back of my neck. "All because you couldn't get past the colour of someone's skin—,"

"We can have a drum circle and talk to Grandmother Willow all you want, Pocahontas, but that ain't gonna change nothing."

I sigh and shrug with my brows raised and eyes widened. "Then I can't do anything for you." I begin back to the door. I wasn't going to spend the rest of my remaining days listening to the bickering of a racist. "Have fun dying up here. Hopefully you rot before the geeks find you—," I jump back as the door is hit and a geek's hand reaches out. "Fuck," I whisper.

"What's wrong, prairie nigger?" I hear him call out. I march back towards him and pace back and forth. "Afraid of being bit?" he asks with a laugh. I stop in my tracks and narrow my eyes at him. "Oh, what was it you called it—poetic justice?" He throws his head back in a raspy laugh. "I couldn't have asked for more," he adds. "Beautiful."

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><p><strong>Sorry for the extremely long chapter.<strong>

**Please let me know what you think, how I'm doing and what I could do better :)**

**Basically, this is something I have been thinking about writing for awhile, so, if you enjoyed it; let me know.**

**Reviews are much welcomed and always appreciated!**

**~MsBBSue**


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: I do not own anything of the Walking Dead series (both comic book and television), and I do not claim to own any of these characters other than my own original character. This is a story I have written and I am in no way, shape, or form making any sort of profit from it. I am poor. I might even be more so now having written this.**

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><p><strong>Updated much quicker than I anticipated...<strong>

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><p><strong>Chapter Two<strong>

Merle's eyes crease with his smile as he yields to his laughter. I grip at my hair—how do I get down? What do I do? I stop my pacing as I reach the ledge of the building. Was this a sick sign from God? I look down and see the walking dead crowding the streets. If the impact alone didn't kill me, the geeks would.

"Hey there, lil' Cherokee rose," I hear him call out as the wind blows up in my face. Dark clouds cover the sky; a storm was on its way. "I don't like how you're looking down there," he says, uneasy making him fidget. "Come on, now, girlie," he says, "pump your breaks."

I turn back to him, my eyes ignoring his figure. As the bangs sound on the chained door I feel my knees buckle. How was I supposed to get back home?

Merle waves a hand my way to grab my attention. I look at him for a brief second and then look away. "Listen here," he says. "You let me free and I promise; you'll get out of this."

I narrow my eyes. "Why would I trust you?" I take three quick steps towards him. "I watched you beat a man senseless—,"

"Rough him up, yeah. Senseless—," he shakes his head, "—no. Only putting' him back in his place like the good Lord intended." I roll my eyes. "I can help you," Merle says, his eyes widening as if to stress the words, "but you need to help me." His sapphires lower to the cuff around his wrist. He looks back my way with a grin pulling at his wicked lips. "Tit for tat," he adds.

I chew my lip and quickly lower my eyes at the consideration. "Alive?" Merle furrows his brow as I approach him. "You'll get me out of here _alive_?"

"I swear it on my mother's grave," he says with his free hand marking an X over his heart. The geeks grow restless as their eyes see us and hands claw out into the fresh air. I jump as the door begins to bend with their weight. "What are you waitin' for?" he caws.

I quickly rush to him and look at the chain of the cuff. I look over to the tools scattered around us. "Did you bring pliers with you?" I ask quickly.

"Maybe," he says with an easy shrug. "Won't know 'til you look," he adds. I roll my eyes and push myself away. I race to the tool and look through them.

A hammer, wrench, screwdriver—, "There we go," I say as I pick up the needle nose pliers and hurry back. I roughly hold Merle's hand and he hisses with the movement of the cuff. The skin beneath the metal was rubbed raw and bleeding.

"Easy, girl," he warns, his eyes harsh and eyebrows knitted. I nod and quickly pinch one of the chain links with the pliers.

"You might want to hold it—it'll twist if you don't," I say quickly as my eyes bounce from him to the geeks and then back. Merle uses his free hand and grips the cuff tightly. With all my might, I squeeze the pliers making the chain link collapse in on itself. I drop the pliers to the ground and fumble as I try to guide the broken link through its sister. "There," I say as the chain falls and hangs on the pipe. There was always a weak link; _always_. "Let's go."

Merle quickly rises from the ground and backs up into me as he looks at the geeks. "Looks like they want a bit of a treat," he says with a smirk as he looks back at me.

My brow furrows and nostrils flare. "You said you would get me out—,"

"I was just makin' an observation. Calm down, Tonto," he says with a hand waving passively. "Come on," he says. "There should be a door over here." I follow him as he walks briskly behind the air filtering system. Sure enough, a door sits. "For an Indian, you're not too keen on your surroundings—,"

"Don't you think you're a little far from home, hillbilly?"

Merle gives a smirk. "I'll take it," he says with a nod before opening the door. "I like a lil' bite sometimes," he says in my ear as I move past him. He closes the door as he enters and takes a deep breath. "There's a restaurant downstairs; a door to the street and one to the alley… whichever one we choose will be for the birds, though." Merle shakes his head and runs his still cuffed hand through his short hair. "I don't think we're gonna get much further than this, Cherry."

I start down the stairs not willing to listen to his words any more. I startle as a hand reaches out and takes my wrist. As I turn, Merle narrows his eyes at me. For a moment, I think this is where my journey ends… that _this_ is what it all has been building up towards; to be killed by a man who had questionable morals.

"It might be dangerous, lil' girl," he says in a soft voice yet his eyes stared back at me with harshness that contradicted his concern. I shake his grip off. "You might not want to go down first—," he cuts himself off with a laugh, "—but I'm not about to tell you to stop; I like that sort o' thing." I feel my nose curl up at the poorly executed sexual innuendo and he lets out a chuckle. "However," he says as he takes two steps down further than me and turns my way, "I am a gentleman and a man of my word." I scoff as he gives a slight bow. "You're getting out alive." Merle Dixon turns away from me and heads down the rest of the steps. I watch him for a moment, careful—cautious, even. "You got yourself the chance of a lifetime here, kiddo; I wouldn't miss it if I were you," he adds as he begins down the next flight of stairs.

I hesitantly follow. I keep myself at five steps away from him. To me, it seemed like a good distance; he was too far and too low to grab me, and, even if he tried, all I had to do was kick him and he'd go falling. I wheeze for my breath as we climb down the third flight. I hang onto the ledge and keel over to the mercy of a coughing fit.

Merle turns and quickly steps back up to me. I stick my hand out and onto his chest to keep him away. I cover my cough and take a deep breath—but it isn't enough. I bend and, suddenly, bile comes out of my mouth. Merle looks down at the sick and makes a face before looking at me with wonder. I wipe at my watering eyes and then the corners of my mouth.

"What's wrong with you?" he asks after I take a few deep breaths to regain control. I ignore his question and try to get past but he blocks me. "I said; what's wrong with you?" Merle says in a stern voice as he leans into my face.

I shake my head. "Chest infection," I say. "Maybe," I add quickly.

"_Maybe_," Merle repeats. "What the hell's that supposed to mean; _maybe_?" he says with a curled upper lip.

"It's not like I'm going to turn," I bark out as I glare back at him. I turn my head away as I give one last cough.

"I've seen people get sick, in my time, Cherry. They can die from almost anythin'." He shakes his head. "With this whole world-goin'-to-shit thing, I've come to realize the dead don't stay _dead_." Merle brings his chin back and shrugs slightly. "How can I be sure you're not gonna to turn?"

I furrow my brow and check my pulse. I nod and say, "Yup, still a heartbeat." I look into his eyes. "What do you say?"

"I guess we keep on goin'," he says with a haughty wobble of his head. As we make it down to the main floor entrance, I gasp as I step out. Two geeks stand motionless between us and the main door. Outside, that was a different story. They pushed each other through the streets and moaned and groaned as if begging to be freed from their terrible fate.

Merle grips my wrist and makes his way in front of me. "I said I'd get you out alive, girlie," he says softly; his eyes keeping on the two geeks as they come to life with wobbles and limps. "This is where we part ways." I furrow my brow and pull my wrist back. Merle looks at me over his shoulder and smiles. "Just through those doors and _you're_ free."

"I go out there and I'm dead—,"

"Ah, Cherry has brain." He looks back to the geeks. "Watch my back and I'll clear 'em out," he says before racing aggressively towards one. It hisses at Merle before he uppercuts it. It falls to the linoleum floor and Merle takes no time before he grabs its head and slams it on the floor a few times. Bits of its scalp and brain fall out of the cracks and bleed onto the floor.

"To the left," I call out just before the second geek lunges his way. Merle lets out a grunt as he and the reanimated roll on the floor. Just as I take a step to help, he hollers and kicks the geek off of him. He pushes himself up and charges at it, his hand pressed against the side of its face. He rams it into the wall and the thing becomes limp. We both watch for a moment, shock and intrigue keeping our eyes from looking away.

I slowly approach Merle and the geek and he nods as if to signal my coming near is okay. "Caught on a coat hook," he says with a point and I nod. The hook had pierced the brain but was in too deep to have the geek's drop. "There's a mantle piece for the fireplace," he says laughing at its ripped and chewed face. "A face only a mother could love," he adds with a slight chuckle and then stops when he sees my melancholy.

I nod slowly and step over the first body to get towards the door. I can hear Dixon stumble on the body as he follows. "Out of the fryin' pan and into the fire," he says and I press my lips together. The windows were barred, but it didn't make the building feel any more secure. Geeks flood the streets; I take a step back as one presses its face on the glass.

I feel Merle staring at me. His light eyes tracing my face and God only knew what else. I turn away. "Where you off to, anyway?" he asks.

"Home," I say simply as I try to ignore the hung geek on the wall. This should be normal by now—but it wasn't.

Merle takes a step into my view and cocks his head. "Merle Dixon," he says as he stretches his hand out for a handshake. I stare at it with a knitted brow. He lowers it slowly with a sigh. "What do they call you?"

"What does it matter?"

"Hm," Merle hums with a smirk. "You'll tell me," he says as he turns away. "They always tell me." His head turns partway towards me. "You're just one of the few I happened to ask," he adds. Merle turns back forward and waves his hand out to the side in a signal to follow. "Consider yourself lucky," he says with a chuckle.

I shake my head and quicken my pace as he turns down a corridor. "I'll be more than lucky if I make it out of here breathing—,"

"And what if we both get out alive?" he asks as looks to me with a smirk. "Hm," he hums. "Then we're both lucky, I guess," he says before looking back down the hall.

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><p><strong>Please let me know what you think, how I'm doing and what I could do better :)<strong>

**Reviews are much welcomed and always appreciated!**

**~MsBBSue**


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer: I do not own anything of the Walking Dead series (both comic book and television), and I do not claim to own any of these characters other than my own original character. This is a story I have written and I am in no way, shape, or form making any sort of profit from it. I am poor. I might even be more so now having written this.**

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><p><strong>Chapter Three<strong>

"Come on, Cherry, let's keep a move on!" Merle hollers out as we run through the streets. "Just about at the fence and then we're outta this shithole," he after a heavy breath. He stops abruptly and I bump into his backside. "Nope—not this way, Cherry," he says as he grabs my wrist before I can see what he sees. "Too many and not enough man power," he explains as if reading my thoughts.

As we turn down an alley and pass a dumpster, I keel over again. "No, no, no," Merle calls as he jugs back to me. "No time for this shit—not right now, girlie." He puts his hand around my back as I begin coughing. He forces me to take a few staggered steps before releasing me. "Goddamn, Cherry," Merle rasps as I brace myself on his shoulder. "You shouldn't be smokin' if you're havin' this much trouble keepin' your breath."

My legs give out as my lungs burn from the coughing. "We don't have time for this," Merle growls as he tries to bring me back up. My vision begins to tunnel as I feel arms lift me and a shoulder below my ribcage. I gasp for air, but the air won't catch in my lungs. I grip the material under me and pull and scratch—I can't breath. I feel myself attempt again for air. My lungs burn with each passing second until the world around me fades completely and I'm engulfed in the deathly black.

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><p>I wake up to a raspy chuckle as I roll onto my side. My chest hurts—everything aches, but the middle of my breastbone stings, like a bruise almost. I push myself up a little too quickly and hold my head.<p>

"Slow and steady wins the race, spruce monkey." I turn my head and see Merle sitting before embers burning. I rub my chest and hiss. "Something I learned from druggies," he says as he brings his knuckle to his sternum. "Quick way to tell if someone's dead," he adds before reclining himself back.

"What happened?" I ask as I rub my eyes.

"You passed out." He sits back up and waves a pill bottle in his hand. He smirks as he looks down at them. "First I thought maybe they were oxies—," he shakes his head, "—but from what I remember, oxies don't come in such… vibrant colours." Merle sighs. "Amoxicillin; good for infection, as for croup—," his head moves side to side again, "—won't do shit." He tosses the bottle to my side. "Best keep 'em for when you need 'em."

"Croup?" the queer name rolls of my tongue with a raw throat as I stuff the pills back into my pocket.

Merle nods. "Recognize that cough from anywhere—wasn't sure at first, but when you passed out, I remembered." I furrow my brow as he smirks. "When I was about eight or nine, I had that same cough. Sounds like a damn seal's bark," he says before imitating it and laughing.

"What do I do about it?" I ask.

"Nothing you _can_ do, Cherry, from what I remember," he says. "A little TLC's what you need. Go on home to your people; tell 'em you can't be doin' these runs." Merle lowers his chin and raises his brow. "Girlie needs to stay with her tribe and get a few days rest in her tepee. Have one of your hunters do this shit for you—,"

"You're such a prick—,"

"Is that how you people talk to someone that just saved their life?" he asks as his jaw rises.

"No, that's how someone talks to people like _you_." I feel my nostrils flare. "I'm sick of it. Stop it—I'm not some dirty savage!" I bark as I attempt to stand.

"Now, now, Cherry," he says patronizingly as he rises and balances me on my feet. "Put yourself down before I do," he says in a low voice. I look at his eyes and he furrows his brow. "I promised to get you out alive." Merle presses his lips together tightly. "You take off right now and that makes me a liar. Now, sit your ass down, Navajo."

"I'm already out—I'm alive," I growl as he forces me back to the grass below. "You can go! Find your people and get the hell away from me—,"

"I'm not leaving," he hollers as he rushes into my face. "I leave and you die." He straightens himself and takes a deep breath. "Like it or not, I owe you, Cherry." I furrow my brow. Merle goes back to his spot by the embers. "Sit there, stay there, and keep your damn voice down." He stretched his legs out and folds his arms. "I'm a man o' my word," he says with a single deep nod. "You're just a wee lil' thing out in this world; how you've survived for so long—," Merle shakes his head, "—I don't know and don't care." He narrows his eyes. "You're sick and need rest. How do you expect to get that out here alone?"

"I'd pull through—,"

Merle cuts me off with laughter. "Yeah, you sure pulled through back in Atlanta, hey Cherry," he says as his hand rises and pinches the bridge of his nose. With his hand lowering, his eyes look to me. "Now, shut your eyes and go to sleep, the sun rises early this time of year."

I recline myself back and lay on my side with Merle in my view. My eyes stay on him; God only knew what kind of man he was. I take a deep breath as my lungs wheeze with it. He _did_ save my life. I furrow my brow and close my eyes for a second. That didn't mean anything. I look back at him as he picks at something on his jeans. Some people helped others just for the opportunity to fuck them over on their terms.

"You can close your eyes," he says as I watch him. "I don't bite," he adds and then smirks. "Not without warning."

I continue to look at him, ignorant to his words. I watch as he leans his back on the tree behind him and looks up to the stars. Merle's eyes briefly dart to mine and then back to the sky. He sighs with frustration and shakes his head. "If you ain't gonna sleep, mind as well be on our way," he says as he rises. His eyes narrow as I slowly sit up. Just as I begin to push myself up, he approaches me and I stop what I am doing, my eyes shooting to the grass as my body stiffens in a fear induced paralysis. Merle's hand comes into view and then he chuckles as I hesitantly take his hand.

"I'm no foe," he says as he pulls me up. He smirks. "But I wouldn't go as far as sayin' I'm a friendly either," he adds with his eyes widening for a quick second. My eyes dart to him and then quickly lower again. "Ally might be a little too strong a word as well," he says after a moment. He dusts his vest off before kicking dirt into the burning embers. "People with mutual interests; has a nice ring to it," Merle says with a nod, "don't it?"

"And what do we have as a common interest?" I ask as I begin walking.

I can hear him chuckling behind me as he quickly catches up. "Stayin' alive, for one," he says. I take a deep breath and keep my eyes on the horizon. "By my guess, you probably still have family kickin'. You'd do anything for those people, wouldn't you—I don't need you to answer. I see it; runnin' round while you're sicker than a dog. Is it a brother?" His brow rises. "Sister?"

"Nephew," I say giving in to his questions.

He nods with his mouth in an O shape. "Yeah," he says. "I got family myself; a baby brother."

"Why aren't you with him?"

Merle stops in his tracks. "Did you see what those assholes did to me back there?" He shakes his head. "Why aren't you with him, she asks." He rolls his eyes. "I will be, but now ain't the time."

"Why would your brother do that to you—,"

"You ain't listenin', Cherry?" Merle shakes his head as he quickens his pace. "My brother wasn't there—if he was, _that_ wouldn't have happened… well, it wouldn't have ended like that."

"Why isn't now the time?" I ask with a shrug. "It's the middle of the night; you could sneak in wherever you were staying and get your brother—,"

He cuts me off with a long sigh as his steps slow down slightly. "Poetic justice, Cherry," he says stressing each syllable. "There'll be a moment where they'll need me. I come to save the day but only bring my lil' brother with me; the rest can fuck 'emselves."

"How big of you," I say monotonously.

"Never asked your opinion, prairie nigger," he says and I try not to let him see my flinch at his words. I feel his eyes on me. "Man, that shit riles you up, don't it?" he asks as he nudges my shoulder.

"Don't touch me," I say as I take a side step to distance him. Merle lets out a chuckle. "You can leave now. I'm not far from home—,"

"That's good because my feet hurt—,"

"You're _not_ coming," I say sternly as I stop.

"And why would that be?"

I study him for a moment. His harsh eyes stare back and hip lips part as if he is truly stunned by my words. I shake my head. "I have high tolerance for your shit, Merle. I'm on my last two legs, now. My nephew doesn't need to hear you and your sickening comments."

"He'll hear 'em on day, Cherry." Merle grins. "Better comin' from the devil you know than the one you don't." I smirk and shake my head. "Like I said; I can be quite the gentleman," he says with a shrug and stretched face. Merle smirks. "I may not look it, but I can be quite appealing to children," he adds before a chuckle as a hand reaches around my waist. I push him with a little too much force and he falls on his backside. Merle looks up at me under a furrowed brow. Slowly, he gets up and takes a step back. "I get the feelin' you're not a touchy feely kind of girl," he says.

"I get the feeling you're not exactly a high school graduate."

Merle narrows his eyes with a grin. "Okay," he says with a nod. "Politically correct, I get it—,"

"Do you?"

"Mhm," he hums slowly with a correlating nod.

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><p><strong>Please let me know what you think, how I'm doing and what I could do better :)<strong>

**Reviews are much welcomed and always appreciated!**

**~MsBBSue**


	4. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer: I do not own anything of the Walking Dead series (both comic book and television), and I do not claim to own any of these characters other than my own original character. This is a story I have written and I am in no way, shape, or form making any sort of profit from it. I am poor. I might even be more so now having written this.**

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><p><strong>Chapter Four<strong>

I take a deep breath as my raw throat throbs. We had been walking for nearly two hours—the first hour and a half was in circles. I wanted him to lose interest, to decide this was all a waste of time, but he stuck with me. He even rubbed my back when a coughing fit came my way almost like he cared; soothing circles before a deathly near friendly pat.

I let out a groan as I straighten. I wipe my mouth and wince as I swallow. I was thirsty, hungry, and tired but unwilling to bring him with me.

"Need to get you home to bed," Merle says as he looks at me. "I thought you said we were close," he adds. "Where the hell is it?"

I shrug and take a hitched breath. "I must be lost," I say. I furrow my brow with faux concern. "I've never been out past dusk… the land looks different in the dark." It wasn't a complete lie; I never stayed out past sunset. I give a half smirk. "My Indian intuition must be wearing thin."

I gasp as Merle steps towards me. "I ain't playin' games here, bow bender," he says. I take a step back as he comes even closer. "If you pass out again, I'm not draggin' your ass to safety again, sweetheart," he says as I bump into a tree. I lower my eyes as he leans into my face. "And that's sayin' something because you ain't got one of 'em bannock bums most of your kind have." As he pulls away from me I make a face.

"Nice to know you care—,"

"We're well past the point of carin', girlie," he says with a laugh. A hand rises and runs through his buzzed scalp as he turns away from me. "I'm tired and hungry. If I know anythin' 'bout bein' sick, I know you must feel those two things tenfold." I take a step away from the tree but back up into it again when he suddenly turns back around. Merle smiles and then lets out a quiet chuckle. "I told you I don't bite—,"

"Not without a warning."

"Exactly," he says with a nod and his eyes creasing with his smile.

I push myself off the tree and take four quick steps around him. "What's the warning I should be looking for?"

Merle shakes his head with his smile fading into a thin smirk. "You'll know when you see it." He narrows his eyes and looks out into the darkness. "Now," he says as he looks back to me, "where's home base?"

I take a shaky breath and slowly begin leading again. As we walk through the grass my heart gets heavier and heavier. The only reason a stranger would care to know where someone was staying would be if _they_ were planning on shacking in. I clear my throat and wince. There was no way Merle was staying there—not with my nephew; not with me.

When we get to the top of a hill, I look down at a small house mixed into the trees. It wasn't a beautiful home—hell, it wasn't even _my_ home—the front yard was little more than dead leaves and fallen branches while the house itself seemed to lean to one side. It kept the geeks away; that's all that mattered.

"Right there," I say as I point my finger. Merle lowers his brow as he looks out into the darkness and gives a slight shrug as he begins down the hill.

"Not what I was expectin'," he says as his voice bounces with each step.

I slowly follow. "No tepees," I call out and he chuckles.

"Yup," he answers. "A damn shame," he adds. "I was hoping to sit in one," Merle turns towards me. "Have one of 'em vision quests—find out my true purpose in life, you know." I smile and shake my head. "Sweet baby Jesus," he calls out, one hand clutching his chest as the other rises to the sky. "Was that a smile, Cherry?" I roll my eyes as he stays still. When I catch up to him, he begins walking again. He shakes his head. "It must have been some kind of mirage—a trick of the eyes," he says as I lower my head and smirk again. I look back at him with a straight face. "Maybe it was the way the moon was hittin' your face—Cherry don't smile," he adds and I shake my head again and let out a small chuckle. "And the heavens have opened—an angel sings!" he calls out as I turn away. Merle looks at me as I turn back and he smiles. "Ain't nothin' looks better on a pretty girl than a pretty smile," he says.

I feel the smile slowly disappear as I look at the cabin. "It's hard to smile when this is the world you're left with," I say.

"There's always something to smile about," Merle rasps. I furrow my brow at him and he looks forward. "You're alive, girlie," he says. "That's reason enough."

As we near the house, the door swings open and a boy with a rifle comes racing out. He stops for a moment when he realizes there are two of us. Just as he had seen me do many times before, he raises the gun and aims our way. Merle stops in place, his hands rising as if to show he is unarmed. "Auntie?" the little boy calls out.

"What did I tell you about fooling around with the guns, Michael?" I growl as I march towards my nephew. "Put the thing down before you shoot yourself," I command as he drops the gun to his side and puts one of his arms around me in a tight hug. I pat his back and kiss the top of his head. This was the first time I had been out past dark; he was scared.

Michael's light eyes look at me as he pulls away and then look to Merle. "Who is he, auntie?" Michael asks as he brings the rifle up again. The barrel weaves up and down and side to side as the boy nervously watches Merle.

"What did I say?" I ask as I push the barrel down hard. "Goddamn it, Mike," I curse as I shake my head. "Merle, this is Michael. Michael; Merle," I say as I wave my hands to them accordingly before taking the rifle away.

Michael watches the stranger for a moment as he approaches. "Where'd you find him?" he asks.

"On a rooftop," I say simply as Merle approaches us. "He was cuffed—,"

"Is he a bad man—,"

"Never mind that," I say with a breath. "I needed his help and he needed mine," I add.

"You the nephew?" he points a finger at Michael as he asks. Michael nods his head slowly as he looks back at Merle. "That's a nice rifle you got there," he says as he nudges his head to the gun in my hands. "But if you're looking to shoot someone, you should probably learn how to hold it properly."

Michael's green eyes look to me and then back to Merle. "Is he a skinner?" he asks and I scoff.

"Do you really think I would bring one of those home?"

Michael's brow knits as he watches Merle. His lips part as he licks them and then he shakes his head. "No…"

"A _skinner_; the hell that mean?" caws Merle.

I look at the man and take a deep breath. "People who kill people for loot," I answer as Michael stares down Merle. He was only seven, but the last few months out and about wandering and surviving seemed to age him. A kid couldn't be a kid anymore. "Go in the cabin," I say and Michael quickly obliges.

Merle watches as my nephew opens the screen door and leaves his vision. I sigh and rub my tired face. "You need to put somethin' up—somethin' that'll make noise if one of them geeks runs into here," he says as he looks away from the cabin and onto me. I furrow my brow. "Just wire and pans… anythin' that'll sound an alarm." He shakes his head. "Otherwise Cherry, you're exposed."

I shake my head. "We tried something similar," I say. "It kept getting knocked over by deer."

"Then you were makin' it wrong." Merle watches me for a moment. "You got a kid to worry about—not just your lil' ol' self." He looks out at the surrounding trees and sighs. "How old are you anyway?" he asks abruptly. I furrow my brow. "That nephew of yours looks old enough to be your brother. Either that means you were a surprise to your parents or you've found yourself the fountain of youth." He smirks. "In the case of the latter; can you point me in the direction I might find it?" he asks with his wheezy chuckle.

I scoff and shake my head. Merle was exasperating. "I'm twenty-eight," I say. Merle's brow rises as his face stretches. "Good genes," I say as if to justify my appearance.

"And I thought I was gonna learn the secrets of eternal youth," he says before a chuckle. Merle takes a step and widens his stance as his arms hang at his side. "You give me your age, but not your name." He furrows his brow. "You even gave me your nephew's name… that tells me you're not worried about me too bad." Merle shrugs. "Why not let me call you what _they_ call you? What harm could that do?"

I shake my head. "That's my prerogative, Merle," I say simply. "Where do names get you anyway?"

Merle's eyes narrow as a smirk grows on his lips. "It's more personal—,"

"I don't like personal," I say.

He bites his lip with his smile. "Oh, you will," he says with a nod as he looks away.

"A charmer," I say with my brow rising and Merle lets out another chuckle as he nods. I smirk. "I don't know, something tells me you're a bit of an ass too."

"You call 'em like you see 'em," he says with his eyes looking back to me. He raises his chin. "I don't know if Cherry's right for you," he says and I furrow my brow. "Cherry's are red from the inside out." He shakes his head. "Your nephew don't look a quarter as Indian as you." I raise my brow briefly and dig in my pockets for my pack of cigarettes. "You a half-breed?"

I light my smoke and toss one to him with the matches. "Does it matter?" I ask.

Merle narrows his eyes and, as if a light bulb has gone off, he widens his eyes. "You're a radish, aren't you?"

"A radish," I say making a face as I blow the smoke out.

"Red on the outside; white on the inside." I make a face and turn away from him. "Sounds about right," he adds. "You look it but you don't act it; you're a radish."

I shake my head as my eyes look back to him. "That has to be one of the most ridiculous things I've heard come out of your mouth so far." I take a puff as he lights his smoke and blows out the match before tossing it to the ground. "Why do you have to put a name on it?"

"Shit, they probably gave you one of 'em names like Dog-Who-Eats-Vomit or Feather-On-Eagle's-Ass," he says before licking his lips. "I wouldn't want to share that either."

"Raleigh," I say quickly.

"Ray-what?" He furrows his brow at the odd word. "Ain't that a boy's name?" he asks as he shakes his head. I watch him for a moment as he lets out a chuckle and raises his brow. Merle brings his feet closer together and nods. "Nice to meet you, Raleigh," he says and, since meeting him, I believe this is the most sincere he has been the entire time.

I narrow my eyes curiously at the man. "I'm still trying to figure out if I feel the same way," I say and he smirks.

"At least you've given me more time than most to find out," he says with a shrug and a chuckle. He takes a quick breath. "I'd say I'm a pleasure," Merle adds, "given the account I've saved your ass not once, but twice." He holds in index and middle finger up my way. "You owe me for that," he says.

"The deals done," I say without thought to his words.

Merle shakes his head. "You're in debt to me," he says. "It wasn't easy carrying you out of the city and to a safe spot for you to get your beauty rest."

I feel my brow furrow. "What do you want?" I finally ask. I feel my hand tighten its grip on the rifle. If I brought it up, there would be no turning back; someone would die.

"A lot of things," he says with a nod as I tilt my head to his words, "but only one that you can help me with." Merle takes a step forward; his light blue eyes appear almost black in the moonlight. "After seeing what you've been trying to protect, I think it would be wise to not deny me." I feel my heartbeat quicken as my blood pressure pumps in my ears as I take a half-step away.

I bring the gun up. "What do you want?" I demand.

He studies me for a moment. I feel like I'm about to be sick. "Is that anyway to treat a guest—,"

"You better leave now—I won't hesitate!" I holler.

Merle furrows his brow. "You better put that damn thing down before you hurt yourself, Cherry. I'm warning you," he growls. As he takes a step forward, I pull the trigger. I hear him let out a whoop—I missed. Instead of him being in pain, I'm in pain. I cradle my arm as I drop the rifle on the ground and it fires again. Merle chuckles and shakes his head. "I told you to put it down before you hurt yourself. Now look at you." He quickly steps towards me and places a hand on my wounded shoulder. "A rifle's kick can break bones…" His thumb presses onto my collarbone and I wince. "Looks like it did," he says with a smirk. I try to jerk away but he pushes me down instead.

"You're gonna let me stay the night," Merle says as he looks down at me. I begin shaking my head and he reaches down and tightens his grip on my shoulder. I scream and remember Michael; I couldn't have him see this. I bite on my lip and hiss and spit until Merle releases. "That must've hurt." He places his hands on his lap and shakes his head. "It almost hurt me," he says with a smirk. "Now," he says before a breath, "let's try again; you're gonna let me stay here, right?"

I flinch as his hand threatens to press my collarbone again. I let out a grunt and turn my head to the side. "Cherry," he says, "don't make me ask again."

I swallow hard and fight to give him a nod.

"Good," he says as he pulls me up roughly making me gasp from the pain. "If you don't want to scare your lil' nephew, I suggest you stop that shit right now," he adds as he pushes me to the porch's steps. "Keep that boy from worryin' 'bout things he don't need to." Merle bends and picks up the rifle. "Ain't like someone's gonna die," he says as he waits for me to head inside. He watches me for a moment as I stand glaring at him. "Unless you want to keep this attitude up, of course" he adds with a chuckle. Merle narrows his eyes. "You better open that door, prairie nigger, I just gave you warning—or do you want another bite?"

* * *

><p><strong>Please let me know what you think, how I'm doing and what I could do better :)<strong>

**Reviews are much welcomed and always appreciated!**

**~MsBBSue**


	5. Chapter 5

**Disclaimer: I do not own anything of the Walking Dead series (both comic book and television), and I do not claim to own any of these characters other than my own original character. This is a story I have written and I am in no way, shape, or form making any sort of profit from it. I am poor. I might even be more so now having written this.**

* * *

><p><strong>Another quick upload of a chapter. I need to slow down.<strong>

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter Five<strong>

We sit at the table, my shaky hands wrapped around a mug of black coffee loaded with sugar. Merle sits across from me, his own mug rising to his lips as he takes a long slurp. The muscles in his arms flex with the action and I feel myself internally cringe. He could have done more than just put pressure on my clavicle.

I barely flinch as the generator cuts power and then comes back on after a moment. It could only take so much by the day. We did our best to keep our energy use to a minimal, but I _needed_ a hot cup of joe after that confrontation.

"You're strong," I say breaking the silence between us as I manage to keep myself calm enough for conversation. Merle arches a brow my way.

He smirks and shakes his head. "Is this your own lil' way of hittin' on me?" he asks and I roll my eyes.

"Just an observation," I say. "You're a fighter, aren't you? You don't run from _them_, do you?"

Merle lets out a wheezed chuckle. "I run," he says with a nod as he lifts his mug back up for a sip. "Everyone runs." Merle's light eyes watch me. "But not everyone can get away," he adds as he lowers the mug back to the table.

I rub my face as I see Michael sitting in the living room sprawled on the floor reading a picture book. He may have been reading—or just looking at the pictures. "Some people fight," I say before I take a sip of my syrup. "My brother did," I add as my eyes dart to Merle and then to the table.

"And where'd that get him?"

"It wasn't a geek that did it," I say with a shake of my head.

"Right," he draws out the vowel. "It was a _skinner_." Merle takes a long breath and pushes his empty mug gently side to side. After a moment, he rises and I startle. Merle lets out a soft chuckle and shakes his head. "Man, someone must've roughed you up bad or else you scare too easy," he says as he turns to the counter and refills his mug. "Huh," he hums as if to prompt me for an answer but I stay silent. "I don't like it when people don't answer me, Cherry," he says as he turns with his back on the counter.

"Just weary of people like you," I say after a moment. My mouth feels like a sandpaper cavern. "You could have done a lot of damage back there," I say with a nervous smirk.

Merle nods and brings his mug back to his lips. He winces as the hot coffee bites at his lips. "But I didn't," he says. His light eyes watch me for a moment before a grin pulls at his mouth. "You're easy, Cherry, almost too easy." I scoff and he chuckles.

"You got lucky," I say and Merle raises his brow in a suggestive way.

"You're easy, I got lucky—Cherry, are we still talkin' 'bout what happened outside?" he says before a raspy chuckle as I lower my head with a smirk. He makes his way back to his chair and lowers himself with a groan. As Merle lowers his mug onto the table, he rubs his cuffed wrist with his eyes shut tightly. It was causing him pain—the metal constantly rubbing the raw and torn skin. "You got balls, kid. I'm surprised you're speakin' to me after that," he adds after a moment.

"You were concerned about yourself," I say. I shake my head and watch him carefully as I take another sip and bounce my foot beneath the table. "I can understand a man who'll do what it takes to keep alive." I take a breath. "I'm not about to hold it against you. God knows I've done some shit things."

"What has a sweet lil' girl like you done?" He laughs. "Offered a dyin' man salvation?" he says with a humoured expression.

I shake my head. "Things I'm not proud of." I lower my eyes back to the table. "Things that I never thought I'd do."

I knit my brow and close my eyes as I think back on the first week of the end. There was a man with a little girl; Jerry and Kendra. They were traveling with us; Michael, his mother Sarah, his father James, and I. We were offered a ride in a truck to some kind of camp. There was only room for four of us to come. I was going to stay behind and let Kendra take my place—but Michael kept calling for me, he was crying. At some point James offered me his spot. Instead, I turned to Jerry as his held his daughter and said the truck would probably be making another trip. He and his kid could catch it then.

It was a lie. The man driving wasn't coming back, but I needed to go—Michael needed me—if I didn't go, James would have stayed. I couldn't have my brother do that, not when he had a family to worry about. We got in the truck and drove off. I wish I could say that was the last I saw of Kendra and Jerry, but it wasn't. Nearly a week later the camp we were taken to was making a run. I found them, the man and little girl; they had turned… the least I could do was put them down.

"I've lied, I've killed, and I've done things I regret," I say as I open my eyes and stare down my mug. I shake my head.

Merle sips his coffee again and furrows his brow. "I respect that," he says with a nod. "Not many people wanna admit that… 'n' fewer can do it."

There's a moment of silence before loud bouncing steps sound on the floor. Suddenly, I feel a hand catch on my shoulder and I wince as Michael climbs onto my laps and looks across at Merle. "How long are you staying?" I hear him ask.

I watch as Merle furrows his brow at him and then relaxes it as he looks back at me. "Haven't decided yet," Merle says. "I think it'll only be 'til the mornin'," he adds.

There silence for a moment. "Are you a bad guy?" Michael asks. There's a pause and then he speaks again. "Or were you stuck on the roof _because_ of a bad guy?"

"What do you think?" Merle says with a small chuckle at the end. I take a breath and lower my chin onto Michael's shoulder.

"Well…" He hums for a moment. "You can't be bad if auntie brought you here. Only daddy brought bad people—,"

"Michael," I growl. He was right… but it wasn't right. James just trusted people too easily.

Merle smirks and shakes his head. "I _might_ be bad," he says in a warning tone. "You shouldn't be talkin' to people you don't know, boy," he adds.

"Then how would I make friends?"

I give a small laugh and Merle furrows his brow at me. "He has a point," I say with a shrug. Suddenly, I remember I'm supposed to be his surrogate parent. "Merle's right," I finally say. "You shouldn't talk to strangers. Some people are bad, Mike." I press my lips together. "They may look like they're nice—but they're bad… mean, even." I pet his curly fair hair. "You just stick with me. I won't let them hurt you."

Merle watches me for a moment as he shifts in his chair. I take a deep breath. "It's time for bed," I say and Michael makes a face. "In my room," I say as he slides off my lap.

I look to Merle. "The second door to the right is Michael's bedroom. You can sleep there." Michael slowly marches off into the hallway. "If you want breakfast, you need to be up by sunrise." He nods and sips from his mug as I rise from my chair. "There's a padlock and a key on the nightstand," I say as his eyebrows furrow. "We lock the bedroom doors in case a geek comes in during the night." I pinch up my cheek and shake my head. "A screen door isn't going to stop them but oak and a lock could give us enough time to escape."

Just as I take a step away, Merle speaks. "Cherry," he says and I close my eyes with a touch of anxiety before turning back to him. "You shouldn't make promises you can't keep," he says before another sip of his coffee. I furrow my brow at him and cock my head. "You might not be able to stop others from hurtin' that boy." Merle shakes his head. "Better to prepare him for the worst than keep 'im hopin' for the best."

I nod faintly and head down the way Michael went. I could keep my nephew safe—I _had_ to. As I enter the small bedroom, I close the door and padlock it shut.

"I went in the cupboard under the sink just like you told me," Michael whispers as I prop my two pillows up before lying next to him.

I nod. Since my brother was killed, I had been practicing that with Michael. I told him that if he heard gunshots or saw someone he didn't know, he was supposed to hide and not come out until he had counted to a thousand without hearing a noise.

"Were you scared?" I ask.

"For a little bit," he admits.

"You didn't need to be," I lie. "Auntie always comes back; doesn't she?" I look down at him as he nods his head. I place a hand on his back and move it in circles until he has drifted off into the wonder of sleep.

I cringe as my shoulder aches from his weight shifting on me, but I do not mind. He is safe and in my arms for another day. I close my eyes and wait for the darkness of night to take me. I hadn't dreamt since this whole thing had happened—not even a nightmare.

I was _living_ the nightmare.

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><p><strong>Please let me know what you think, how I'm doing and what I could do better :)<strong>

**Reviews are much welcomed and always appreciated!**

**~MsBBSue**


	6. Chapter 6

**Disclaimer: I do not own anything of the Walking Dead series (both comic book and television), and I do not claim to own any of these characters other than my own original character. This is a story I have written and I am in no way, shape, or form making any sort of profit from it. I am poor. I might even be more so now having written this.**

* * *

><p><strong>I have yet to slow down...<strong>

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><p><strong>Chapter Six<strong>

I reach out for Michael and feel my heart skips a beat. There was nothing but mattress beneath my hand—not even a lump of blanket beside me. I stand from my bed in a rush and widen my eyes; the door is open. I quickly and silently make my way to it. If _anyone_ put a hand on that child, they would have to pray I never found them.

I cringe as the floor beneath my feet screams at my weight. As my eyes look into the kitchen, I let the breath I've been holding in.

"War," Michael hollers out as Merle laughs. I enter the kitchen and mat Michael's hair. He makes a face as he and Merle set three cards facedown below their matching ones and flip the fourth at the same time. Michael lets out laugh as he scoops the cards and pushes them into his pile.

"You cheatin'?" Merel asks with a cocked eyebrow. Michael shakes his head as he bites his smile's bottom lip.

"Oh, he's cheating," I say with a smirk and Michael turns quickly to me. I step towards the table and sit down. "He's playing it so he only brings out the big guns, isn't he?" I tease.

Merle narrows his eyes. "Yeah…"

"No, I'm not!" Michael caws as he furrows his brow. Both he and Merle flip a card; king of diamonds and eight of spades. He looks down at his king and shakes his head. "That doesn't count," he says. They flip again and he gives a triumphant smirk as he flips the four of spades. "See," he says.

"You're only givin' me the shit cards," Merle says with a snicker as he scoops the two up. "What the hell am I gonna do with a four?"

"Get a three or a two," Michael says. He flips an ace and Merle reveals a two. Michael watches as the car goes under Merle's hand and disappears. "I'll get it back," he says with a sure nod.

"No, you won't," Merle says with a simple shake of his head. "I've got all four twos. Unless you're thinkin' we're goin' to war, you ain't gettin' it back, sunshine; that ace is mine," he explains as he leans towards Michael.

I watch as the two continue the game. There was something nice about Michael sitting around playing cards; it was almost normal. It had been too long since he laughed—really laughed. Children needed that. I stretch my arms above my head and give a yawn as I look out the window.

The sun was just above the horizon, that bright orange-yellow light tainting the trees and grass around. I cough as my breath hitches and lower my head at the mercy of my lungs. As I look up, I see Merle and Michael both watching me. I clear my throat and they continue.

"Did you eat?" I ask as I put a hand on Michael's arm. He gives a nod and then smiles as he wins the cards on the table. "What did you eat?" I ask. He was notorious for lying about that sort of thing.

"There was a can of tuna," he says. I turn to the counter and nod. The empty can still sat on the counter with a fork lying beside it.

"Want anything?" I ask as I look to Merle.

He shakes his head and carefully places down a card. "Damn it," Merle curses as his body jolts with the loss. "Hate to break it to you, kid, but I think this game's comin' to an end," he says as he holds up two lonely cards.

"In War, you can't assume anything," Michael says in a low tone and I smirk. He always took his card games seriously.

Merle gives a soft chuckle and flips one of his cards only to lose it. As he flips his last one, it comes out matching Michaels. "What now?" he asks with an exaggerated shrug and a furrowed brow.

Michael purses his lips. "You can have them," he says. Michael smirks. "I'll let you win this battle." He smirks with narrowed eyes. "But you will _not_ win the war," he says.

Merle laughs with a nod and takes the cards in his hands. I stand from the table and slowly walk towards the door of the cabin. I wrap my arms around myself as I step out onto the porch. I take in the morning air and sigh. After life in the city, the countryside was a nice change—though, the geeks not so much. It was also safer out here. Only once had there been a geek come in. He was easily taken care of upon first sight.

"That kid can talk the hind leg off a donkey—," I jump and turn to see Merle on the other side of the screen door. He pushes it open and steps outside.

"He wasn't bugging you, was he?" I ask. Once Michael started talking, there didn't seem to be a way to stop him.

Merle shakes his head. "No," he says with his brow knitting for a nanosecond. "Just different, is all. There were kids in the group I was at before." I nod. "Most of them stayed away from me."

"I thought you were appealing to children," I mock.

He smirks. "When I wanna be," Merle corrects. He rubs his still cuffed hand through his buzzed hair. "He kind of reminds me of myself at that age," he says as he shifts his footing. "'Cept people listen to him," he adds.

I smile. "When he's all you got for social contact, you kind of have to."

Merle nods and looks out to the yard. He scratches the top of his lip and then sighs. "He's a good kid," he says.

I shake my head. "Believe me, sometimes he's not." I lean against the siding and sigh. I press my lips together and feel myself wheeze with my breathing. I clear my throat.

"You gotta look after yourself before you look after him," he abruptly says and I furrow my brow. Merle takes a breath. "I'll stay 'til you're better. Maybe even do a few runs for you." He shrugs. "If you want to keep that kid alive, you need to make sure _you_ stay that way first."

I shake my head. "I'm fine—,"

"For all you knew you could've had pneumonia." He shakes his head as he looks back at me. "I'm makin' you an offer, Cherry." I raise my chin. "I'll do the work around here 'till you're better. In return, I get a place to stay; that's more than fair, I'd say."

I shake my head and make a face. "I don't know you," I say. "After that shit you pulled last night, I'm not exactly willing to trust you."

"You understood it," he says.

"I understand plenty, but that doesn't mean I'm going to follow you into battle," I say as I furrow my brow. "I can't risk having you here… not when I'm looking after Michael and not when you're like that."

"Now, now, Cherry," he says with a raised brow and stretched face, "I hope you ain't sayin' what I think you are." Merle narrows his eyes. "It just might break my lil' ol' heart if you're tryin' to get rid of me so quick."

I shake my head and open my mouth but he cuts me off.

"If I was going to do anything, I would have done it last night," he says. "If I was gonna kill you, I would've done it when you freed my hand." He narrows his eyes. "I'll be the first to admit I have questionable morals—but you—," he smirks as his sapphires look me up and down, "—ain't got nothin' to worry 'bout."

I sigh as I look to the porch's floor. There was always a catch—people didn't do things for the sake of being kind anymore. Even when I freed Merle, I did it with the incentive he would get me out of the place alive.

"It ain't a hard decision," he says as my eyes rise to meet his. "You say yes and I'm your workhorse." He shrugs. "That's a pretty nice deal, now ain't it?"

I watch him for a moment. He made the offer with such ease—like he knew the answer was going to be in his favour. I look away and press my lips together again. Merle could be a lot of things, but a liar was not one; he proved that to me last night while reassuring me he was most definitely an ass. "What if I say no?"

Merle furrows his brow. "I don't take, 'no,' too kindly; you saw that last night, or have we forgotten already?" I look out to the yard. "Cherry," he says as I turn my head to him but keep my eyes fixed on the trees, "I'm willing to put in the work. I _could_ just take the place for myself. You ain't really in a position to hold your own—I see it, you see it, and I'd bet my last dollar that the boy sees it." My eyes finally look to him. "Think of it as me bein' kind to a pretty woman," he says with a smirk. "Gentlemanly," he says with a nod to the word. I shake my head. "I'm only stayin' 'til you get back on your feet. It's the least I can do for that boy," Merle adds as he ignores my silent answer.

"You don't owe him anything—,"

"No," he agrees. "I don't," he says.

"What will _I_ owe you then?" I ask with a shrug.

Merle's smirk makes his eyes crease. "A smile… hell, maybe even a kiss on the cheek—I haven't decided yet. But that smile ain't an option, girlie."

"That's all?" I raise my brow with doubt.

Merle's arms fold into one another on his chest as he leans on the siding of the cabin. "I'm a simple man," he says. "I get my kicks where I can and if all I want's a smile, I wouldn't be questionin' it. You should take the offer," he says with a single nod. "There're worse things in this world than a kiss on the cheek." He narrows his eyes. "Things that you might not take too kindly to," he adds.

I look inside as Michael races past the door. "Fine—but under one condition," I say.

"And what might that be, lil' Miss Raleigh?" he asks in a condescending voice.

I narrow my eyes at him. "If you have another outburst like last night; you're gone." I furrow my brow. "If you do not leave, I will shoot you and I _won't_ miss next time."

* * *

><p><strong>Please let me know what you think, how I'm doing and what I could do better :)<strong>

**Reviews are much welcomed and always appreciated!**

**~MsBBSue**


	7. Chapter 7

**Disclaimer: I do not own anything of the Walking Dead series (both comic book and television), and I do not claim to own any of these characters other than my own original character. This is a story I have written and I am in no way, shape, or form making any sort of profit from it. I am poor. I might even be more so now having written this.**

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter Seven<strong>

I watch the hill with my blanket wrapped around me. It was getting cooler during the days which only meant the seasons were beginning to change.

"When will he be back, Auntie Ray?" I hear a small voice ask. I turn and see Michael on the other side of the door.

I shrug and look back to the hill. "He could be back tonight… he could be back tomorrow; I don't know when, sweetie." Over the three weeks, Merle had been making runs; sometimes they lasted only hours while others would last over days. I pull the blanket up to my chin. Our supplies had gone from lasting a measly three days to well over two months by my calculations. Where Merle was getting the stuff didn't concern me—I didn't want to know.

"I hope he comes back," Michael says before slowly walking away from the door. I nod slowly.

I narrow my eyes as I see a figure slowly appear at the top of the hill. I stand and wait. Whether I should warn Michael to run and hide or if it was the redneck, I was unsure. I lick my lips and lower the blanket to the steps as I cautiously walk into the yard.

"Found some tracks," he calls. It was Merle. "You got some deer that are pretty comfortable 'round here." He smirks as his steps become shorter to fight back the momentum. "I was thinking 'bout takin' that rifle of yours and goin' after them." I watch as he steps onto the flat land. "Be good eatin'. None of this canned shit," he adds as I take the pack from him. I wince as I put the strap over my right shoulder. "The hell've I been tellin' you, Cherry?" Merle rips the pack from me and swings it back to his shoulder. "You need to rest the thing."

I take a deep breath and walk with him the rest of the way. As we enter the cabin, I toss my blanket carelessly to the couch as Michael takes Merle's pack and begins emptying it out on the counter in the kitchen. I watch as Merle sits at the table before I go in and make a pot of coffee. It was almost routine—terrifying to think of. I frown as I look in the coffee can. There was only enough to make half a pot.

"Found some of that in a house today," he says. "It's no-name, but I figured we weren't in the position to be choosey—right there," he says as Michael struggles with the can. I turn and nod. "Been finding a lot of… uh…" he thinks for the word, "… ramen noodles?" He cocks his head at me as I turn with a nod. "I figured tomorrow I'd go lookin' for some bottled water. At least it brings some variety to our meals."

I watch as Merle places his elbows on the table. "Michael," he says, but my nephew is too distracted by the pack's contents. "Mike," he calls again and finally the boy turns to him. Merle reaches into his pocket. "I found somethin' you might like," he says with a nod before bringing up a pack of spearmint gum. I feel my mouth salivate at the sight and Michael gives a huge smile. He stands for a moment before Merle furrows his brow. "Well, come 'n' get it, I've already brought it this far," he says with his head bobbing side to side with attitude and I laugh.

Michael races to Merle's side and waits patiently for the treat. "How many pieces you want?"

Suddenly, Michael's green eyes look up to me. "How many pieces can I have, auntie?"

"Yeah, auntie, how many pieces does he get?" Merle asks in a sad voice with hooded eyes and a lip out.

"I don't care," I say with a shrug. "One should do it—how many did mommy and daddy let you have?"

"They didn't let me have gum—,"

"Why the hell not?" we both turn our eyes back to Merle as he sounds.

Michael shrugs. I furrow my brow. "You do know not to swallow it, right?" I ask slowly and Michael's brow furrows and head jerks back with confusion.

Merle lets out a sigh as he takes out one piece. "You only chew it," he says as he unwraps the gum. "You swallow it and it'll stay in your belly for seven years; that's no joke," he warns. Merle's eyes dart up to me and then back to Michael. "When you're done with it, you spit it out, you hear me?"

"Don't swallow," Michael says with a nod and opens his palm for the piece.

Merle leans back in his chair as he takes two more pieces out and slides one across the table for me. He takes the second and unwraps it as he did with Michael's. "Watch how it's done, boy," he says with a smirk before tossing the piece in the air and catching it in his mouth. Michael lets out a laugh and jumps up and down at the sight. Merle give a laugh and leans towards him. "Let's see you do it," he says as he chews the gum with each word.

Michael cups the gum in his hand and quickly scoops it in his mouth; over all height, if any, was about half an inch off his hand. Merle's eyes widen. "Holy man, did you see that, Cherry?" he caws as he points to Michael.

"Sure did," I say with a nod as my nephew turns to me with a huge smile on his face.

"You got a real knack for that," Merle says making Michael turn back to him. "We should send you off to the circus 'n' have you perform in front of people. Call you; The Amazin' Gum Slinger," Merle says with his hands stretching out as if the words are right before him. He smirks and shakes his head. "Dress you up as a cowboy and have your holster filled to the brim with spearmint gum," Merle adds with a laugh joined by me. He nods as his eyes crease with his smile. "That'd be somethin'."

I smirk and shake my head as Merle ruffles Michael's hair before patting his back. He was good to him; only once had he hollered at my nephew—but it was justified. Michael should not have been following Merle out of the yard.

My nephew goes back to unpacking the bag and I turn back to the coffeemaker as it hisses steam signalling the cycle is almost over.

As Michael races into the living room I bring the two cups of coffee to the table. "There's whitener on the counter," Merle says with a point of his finger. I search for a moment and then grip the half empty can. As I lower myself to the table, Merle takes the can an eyeballs the amount he thinks he needs.

He frowns as the coffee's colour bleaches out. "A little too white for my likin'," he says.

My jaw drops and my hand smacks the top of the table in faux shock. "Too white for you?" I ask as he looks to me. "I never thought I would see the day, Merle."

He gives a half smirk and looks back down at his coffee as he puts sugar in it. "I guess it's from all the time I've been here. Not seein' white people 'round… gets kinda lonely," he says and I scoff. "Poor lil' white boy all alone with a half and half." Merle raises his brow. "I better get out before you have me doin' powwows."

I laugh and take a sip of my sweet coffee. "That'll be the day," I say. "We'll start calling you White-Cloud—,"

"White-Cloud," Merle says as he looks back to me with his brow furrowed. "At least give me a good name. White-Cloud sounds like I'm a damn pansy," he adds while making a face. "White-Bull," he says with a nod. "Now, that's somethin' to be proud of—somethin' that'll bring fear into my enemies and have 'em pissin' their pants at the mentionin' of my name."

I shake my head and close my eyes. "Because you're something to fear, right," I asks as he watches me. Suddenly, his demeanour changes and he almost seems cold towards me.

"Cherry," he says lowly, "I _am_ somethin' to fear. If you don't know that now then you probably won't be around for long." I narrow my eyes at him as he shrugs. "I'm only sayin' this so you don't go mistakin' me as somethin' I never said I was." He sips his coffee. "I'm warnin' you because I like you, girl," he adds with a smirk, "you're smart and want what's best for that boy… that 'n' you have a nice rack."

"Yeah," I say with a roll of my eyes, "because breasts are a girl's best asset—,"

"I said you were smart," Merle says with a smirk. "Don't you be tryin' none of that feminist bullshit on me. Those things don't matter anymore," he says as a finger gestures to my chest. He lowers his eyes and I remember Officer Friendly for a moment. "It's only you and _them_," he says. "Them being others, not your tits," he specifies. "Other than Michael, you got nobody you can trust."

I furrow my brow. "What about you."

"No," he says with a shake of his head. "Don't trust me." Merle presses his lips together for a moment as he thinks. "I've got my brother and that's all I need…" I reach and hand out to him and he looks down at it with a confused expression.

"You can trust me too," I say gently before pulling away. "I'm not about to turn on you, Merle."

He laughs. "You couldn't even if you tried, Cherry" he says and I roll my eyes. "Ain't a bad bone in your body," he adds. Merle shakes his head. "You shouldn't trust me; I probably shouldn't trust you either… but I do 'n' it's stupid—that's askin' for trouble."

Merle leans back in his chair with a sigh and brushes his still cuffed hand through his hair. "How's your shoulder today?" he asks as he changes the subject.

I smirk. "Check this out," I say and he watches as I roll my right shoulder with minimal wincing. As I stop I furrow my brow and lower my head. "It didn't hurt as much earlier," I say as I look back to him.

"Good," he says. "Just don't over use it," he says.

"Was that a warning, Dixon?" I ask coyly with a raised brow.

Merle cocks his head and gives a nervous smile. "Do you want it to be?" he asks calling out my bluff.

I shake my head and let out a laugh. "You're too easy—,"

"No, 'member," he says as he leans on the table, "you're the easy one… I'm the one who gets lucky."

"You _got_ lucky," I correct and he smirks.

Merle shakes his head and knits his eyebrows. "I don't remember ever _getting_' lucky," he says. "Why don't you give me a reminder and see if I remember?"

"In your dreams," I say making a face and he lets out his raspy chuckle. "It'll be a cold day in hell before _that_ happens," I add with a laugh.

"Winter's coming," he says with a shrug and a smug smirk. "And as far as I'm concerned, you should be honoured. Probably be the best post-apocalyptic lay you'll ever have."

I smirk and shake my head. "Well, there wouldn't be much to compare it to," I say. "If we're talking post-apocalyptic, of course," I add with a raised brow and a nod.

"Be best if you were all healed up before we go makin' the beast with two backs," he says with a smirk as I cringe with the euphemism. "I like it rough," he says and I let out a nervous laugh. "Pullin' hair, spankin', bitin'—," he smiles as I look away, "—nothing too kinky, of course. No need for safe words." He lets out a chuckle as he looks down at his wrist. Merle narrows his eyes and hums as he plays with the cuff. "Too bad the cuff's on me…"

I close my eyes and make a face as he laughs loudly. I look back to him with a smile to hide my discomfort. "You're telling me you're not the passionate type? No cuddles after?" I shake my head. "That's how I pictured it—,"

"Don't go confusing sex with makin' love, Cherry. I'm passionate in both but we're talking about rough, raw sex here," he says. "Just you wait; you let me have you and I _guarantee_ you won't want to let me go."

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><p><strong>So... um... this had a very different ending than I anticipated.<strong>

**Like... from chapter beginning to chapter end, the difference is stark.**

**Call me immature, but I was laughing to myself when writing those last paragraphs.**

**Also, in case people are wondering about action and stuff... this is a Walking Dead fanfic after all... it's going to start picking up in the next few chapters.**

**Quite intensely, if I do say so myself with an appearance from a certain character a little later on.**

* * *

><p><strong>Please let me know what you think, how I'm doing and what I could do better :)<strong>

**Reviews are much welcomed and always appreciated!**

**~MsBBSue**


	8. Chapter 8

**Disclaimer: I do not own anything of the Walking Dead series (both comic book and television), and I do not claim to own any of these characters other than my own original character. This is a story I have written and I am in no way, shape, or form making any sort of profit from it. I am poor. I might even be more so now having written this.**

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter Eight<strong>

"All right," Merle whispers as he puts a hand on my back and slows his movements. I feel my blood race as my vision vibrates. He was beautiful; head held high with the pride of being a wild king, his legs long and strong—ready to sprint at a moment's notice. I watch as the deer lowers he head and begins eating the grass below him. "Time for the shot," Merle says as he turns his head my ways but keeps his eyes on the deer.

I fumble with the rifle on my shoulder and awkwardly bring it into position. As I bring my face to the scope, I cannot help but feel my inexperience showing. "Widen your stance," I hear Merle say as he taps the sides of my thighs. I nod as if I had forgotten. I bring my face to the scope and stop abruptly as I feel Merle behind me. "You need to bring the rifle closer," he whispers in my ear as he reaches around me and repositions my hands. I can feel his chest pressed against my back; every slow breath he takes I feel.

Merle brings his cheek to my ear as I stiffly stand; my mind is no longer on the game. "It's an extension of your arms," he adds. "Don't bring your face to the scope; you can get a good view of 'im with your head square with your shoulders." I nod faintly, my arms loosening slightly. "Keep the gun close," he repeats. "It'll kick if it's too far; you'll end up with another break," he adds as I tighten my grip and press the rifle to my shoulder. I feel his whiskers pull at my hair as he watches the deer. "Wait," he says. "Wait for it," he says again as the deer's head rises. "Take it," he says in a rushed whisper as the animal goes back to eating.

I shoot and feel the rifle's kick. It hurts, but it's not enough to keep my eyes from my target. I watch as the animal races off and I sigh with frustration. We had been tracking the deer for nearly three hours only to have me miss the damn shot.

I lower the gun and narrow my eyes with anger as I step away from Merle. He still stands, his eyes watching where the deer had been. I wipe the sweat off my brow and shake my head.

"I'm sorry," I say as he continues to look out. I slowly hand the rifle back to him. He was better shot than me. I shouldn't have asked to try.

His brow knits for a moment before he shakes his head. "Don't be sorry just yet," he says. "I think you might've actually hit 'im."

My cheeks pinch up as he takes a step out of the brush. "How will you know?" I ask as he marches towards the little grove the animal was eating in.

"Should be blood somewhere," he calls back. "If there ain't, then you're a terrible shot 'n' we eat ramen tonight… and every other night this week."

Merle bends as he looks at the grass. His fingers wipe something and he rubs it between his thumb and index finger as his chicks pinch up and eyes narrow. "We'll find him," he assures me. "You got him good," he adds as he waves me over.

As I come out to the grove, I see the red tainting the grass. "He should be easy enough to follow with a trail like this." Merle follows the trail with his eyes as it leads into trees. "Just gotta hope we find 'im before a walker does," he says. I nod; I never understood the term—but calling them geeks wasn't exactly better either.

He sucks his teeth and shakes his head. "Rule of thumb with huntin' is waitin' about thirty minutes before trackin'…" Merle presses his lips together. "We ain't got thirty minutes. We still have to get back to the cabin."

"So why don't we just follow it?"

"If we spook him, he'll run further. We need him to calm down 'n' slowly die like the good lil' buck he is." Merle runs his cuffed hand through his hair.

"We should get that off of you,"

Merle furrows his brow and I nod to his hand. He looks at it and nods with a smirk. "I take it you don't like my bracelet, Cherry."

I shake my head with a smile. "No, if anything, I'm jealous." I roll my eyes. "I wish I had one and then we could be matching," I say sarcastically. "Hell, we should get Michael one for that matter. We could be a happy little family of misfits and rejects," I say and Merle chuckles.

As we stand for a moment in silence, I rub my collarbone and close my eyes. The bone was healed, but the pain was still there—a bruise had arrived somewhere between the third or fourth week, now, it was a pretty yellow-orange splotch.

"Did you hurt it again?" Merle asks as he takes a step closer to me. I shake my head but he pushes my hair over my shoulder and pulls the neck of my shirt down to see the bruise. "Keep an eye on it," he says. "If it starts goin' back to black and blue we'll keep you away from rifles for good," Merle adds with a smirk.

I roll my eyes. "Then how on earth am I supposed to protect my family?" I ask with an exaggerated shrug, my sarcasm still strong.

"You got me," he says and I'm taken aback. "Ain't nothin' to worry 'bout."

I raise an eyebrow. "A couple weeks ago you said I couldn't trust you—,"

"Nah, I said you _shouldn't_ trust me. You _could_ all you want—could 'til the cows come home, for all I care. But you _shouldn't_." Merle's blue eyes shoot out to the trees as something sounds in the background. "Sounds like Buck's down for the count," he says as he looks to me with a smile. "Time to tag 'im 'n' bag 'im 'n' take him home," he says with a chuckle.

Without further word, we enter the trees and begin the tracking. It was mostly Merle doing the work; I tried my best to learn what to watch for, but all I saw was grass, leaves and trees with the occasional sweep in the dirt from a footstep. I wipe my brow again and sigh. The heat was ridiculous for fall, but at least it was cooling down. No more long hot days out in the middle of nowhere trying to find things. Instead, the heat was bearable—not great, but doable.

"Shh," Merle hushes as he lowers himself before an opening. I mimic him and look out to see what he sees. "Buck's down, alright," he says and then smacks his hand into the tree he crouches behind. "Goddamn walker got 'im first," he growls.

"Should we kill it?" I ask. If it had been just me, there would be no question; the geek would die. I couldn't have it so close to the cabin—not with Michael.

Merle furrows his brow. "I think he's just passin' by." His brow relaxes. "We could, but it'd be doin' no good; just wastin' bullets."

"You have a knife," I say. If I were to tell him to do it, he wouldn't; it had to be his idea—or, he had to at least think it was.

"You want him gone so badly; do it yourself," Merle says as he looks at me. "Ain't nobody stopping' you, Cherry." I narrow my eyes at him and he raises his brow.

I rise and take the knife from his belt and quickly leave the tree line. As I step out, all I can smell is its scent; a mix of rotting meat and excrements. He crouches over my game and chews at its insides while the poor deer still breaths. The buck was too dead to make a noise, but too alive to die.

As I step cautiously towards the walker, his head rises and looks at me. At some point, he may have been only a teenager wondering what the hell he was going to do with the rest of his life, but, now, he was a thing that's only goal in life was to feast and wander until the next meal.

I ready the blade in my hand as he rises to his feet. His hands reach out to me and, quickly, I jab the knife into his skull with a grunt. My hand falls with the walker's body as I struggle to free the blade.

"Cherry," I turn quickly and see a new walker lunging at me. I fall back, Merle's blade no longer in my hand. There's no time to scream—no time to think, really. I don't have enough room to push myself back up so I pull myself away until its body falls on top of my legs. I kick and thrash them as its mouth opens for a bite. My mouth opens, but only a grunt comes out as I continue to kick at it.

As my eyes look to the sky as if God would help me, I see a third dropping to its knees as it grabs at my shoulders. I wince as it pressures my collarbone. I push its face as its mouth opens. My pulse races in my ears as I feel the body below fall limp. I use all my strength and flip the geek next to me on its back. As it rises from the ground, suddenly, its body falls back to the grass.

I look up and see Merle standing above. He quickly reaches down and tosses the body on my legs off of me before I rise.

I don't know what made me do it—or what I was thinking, but I rush into his arms as if they are the only thing that can pull me away from this world.

I burrow my face into his chest and he cautiously places his hands on my back. "It's all right," he whispers after a moment. "You're okay, Cherry." Merle's hands circulate on my back as I try to come rcover from this fear. It had been so long since I saw them—so long since I was attacked—I almost forgot they were still around. "Shh," he hushes in my ear as he rests his chin on my shoulder. "We'll go back." I take a shaky breath. "It's all right, Cherry. I'm here."

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><p>I sit out on the porch with my knees at my chest. A cigarette burns away between my fingers as I look out at the yard. Michael was asleep and Merle was busy putting found gas into the generator. I let out a shaky breath as my mind races back to the geek-pile. I didn't understand it. I had been fine since the beginning—if you can call being numb fine.<p>

I take a puff of the cigarette and blow the smoke out slowly allowing it to lick off my face and curl around my hair. I wasn't supposed to be afraid. I wasn't supposed to freeze up like that—how was I supposed to protect Michael?

I ash the smoke and lower my eyes to the steps.

"Maybe the further south the better it is." I turn my head and see Merle leaning on the railing. He takes a step up and lowers himself.

"No," I say quietly. Merle's eyes look to me as I ash my smoke again. "We came from Savannah," I say and Merle nods. I lower my eyes and shake my head. "We were trying to head north… I thought with winter and that, it might slow _them_ down." I make a face. "And then… with my brother gone… _we_ slowed down." I take a breath. "I doubt we'll make it," I say on a whisper, "but I need to try, you know?"

Merle nods. "You gotta do what you gotta do," he says. "Family's important, Cherry. However, if you do it, will you be able to live with yourself if he doesn't make it?"

My breath catches in my chest as the words strike me. I puff my smoke as I look back out to the trees. "I'd have nothing to live for," I whisper with a shake of my head. I sigh and look down as my eyes water. "I promised my brother I'd look after Michael. I said I would make sure he stayed safe—that he wouldn't turn." I take a breath as I try to calm myself down. I lean forward and take a long puff on my cigarette. "What good is living if all you're doing is trying to stay alive?" I ask as I look back to Merle. He sits with his back leaning on the railing; his head is pulled up and back with his eyebrows gently knitted over his hooded eyes. I scoff and look down. "I could take him north—get him as far as Minnesota… but what do I do if there's nowhere to go?"

"You keep movin'," Merle says with a bob of his head.

I take a last drag from my smoke and toss it as I rise with a wince. "What if I don't want to; what then?" I hear myself ask.

"I knew there was a reason you were lookin' down that buildin' all googly eyed and shit back in Atlanta," he says with a grunt as he rises. Merle shakes his head, his eyes avoiding mine. "You can't think that way. You need to keep your mind on whatever matters." I furrow my brow. "For me, it was my brother… still is, but I know he ain't stupid. He'll be alive when I go get him." Merle puts his hands in his pockets. "You need to think about that lil' boy, Raleigh, 'cause he ain't got no one else." Merle takes a breath and says softly, "Ain't nobody gonna care 'bout him 'cept you."

I nod and take in a deep breath. I take a step back as his eyes finally meet mine. They were gentle—wounded, almost, and a far cry from the harshness they carried the day we met.

Merle shakes his head. "If this whole thing don't make a person rethink their life, I don't know what will." He lowers his brow. "But," he says with a sigh, "the tide will turn; things'll get back to normal."

"What if they don't?"

"Then we keep movin'. We can't let a little hiccup take us down." He watches me again, his eyes studying my face. "You gotta stay strong, Raleigh. It'd be a shame for a girl like you to give up so easy." I nod and dart my eyes away from his as I feel my guilt pile onto my chest.

"Where's my smile?" Merle asks after a moment. I look to him with a knitted brow. "I was serious about that. It's in our verbal contract, Cherry. Come on," he eggs.

I shake my head. "I don't feel like smiling."

"You have a reason," he says. I watch him for a moment as he takes two steps up. "You're alive, ain't you?"

I nod with a sad smirk as I look down. He lifts my chin and shakes his head with his brow furrowed with something I have never seen on his face; sympathy. "You'll push through," he says with a nod of certainty. "We all've got a wall… it just takes one good kick before it crumbles, Cherry." He takes a breath. "You'll get there. I know you will."

I nod and before he leaves, I reach for his cheek and turn his head. He watches me carefully as I rise to my toes and kiss the bristly skin on his cheek. I hear him swallow as he straightens. Merle's eyes look to the porch's floor and he gives a nod. Slowly, he opens the screen door and enters the cabin.

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><p><strong>Please let me know what you think, how I'm doing and what I could do better :)<strong>

**Reviews are much welcomed and always appreciated!**

**~MsBBSue**


	9. Chapter 9

**Disclaimer: I do not own anything of the Walking Dead series (both comic book and television), and I do not claim to own any of these characters other than my own original character. This is a story I have written and I am in no way, shape, or form making any sort of profit from it. I am poor. I might even be more so now having written this.**

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><p><strong><span>THIS IS MA<span>: Do not read this unless you are prepared for the content. Go to the next chapter (wait for the next chapter) and there will be a briefing of what has happened.**

**Things are about to get a little sour here. Lemon warning...**

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><p><strong>Chapter Nine<strong>

As I roll out of bed, I wince with aches. My body wasn't meant for this lifestyle. I put on a shirt and pair of pants with winces and whimpers before leaving the room. Just as I open the unlocked door, I gasp as Merle stands before it, his hand reached out for a knock.

"You're up," he says and I nod. "I've got somethin' to say… not here," he says in a low tone before gesturing me to follow. As we walk through the living room, Michael sits on the couch colouring on old newspapers.

"We'll be back in a bit," Merle says and Michael nods without a word. He never questioned why or for how long—he just knew that I or Merle would always come back. I tug at Merle's arm as we step out onto the porch.

"Where are we going?" I ask but he ignores my question as he goes down the steps and onto the grass. "Where are we going?" I repeat loudly and, finally, Merle turns to me.

He tucks his teeth and furrows his brow. "Nah, not here," he says. "Just wait," he says with a nod and tight lips. Merle turns back around and heads off into the yard. "Get a move on, Cherry," he calls out as I slowly follow.

We walk for about fifteen minutes, the trees growing thicker and thicker until I feel as though if I got turned around, I would never find my way back to the cabin. Finally, Merle looks back to me.

"Do you know who I am?" he asks with his eyebrows high. I take a half-step back and furrow my brow. "No, no, Cherry," he says as he grips my forearm and pulls me back. I try to fight him off, but he slams me into a tree's trunk. I throw my head back as the wind in my lungs escapes me. "You don't get to escape this," he says as he taps my face with his palm trying to bring me back to his words. I look up at the sky and feel my chest constrict with fear and anxiety. "Look at me—," he grabs my jaw and pulls my face to him, "—_look_ at me!"

I close my eyes and open them with a glare back at him as hard as I can. "You listen here, Cherry," Merle says, "you don't get to act like that—you don't—," his lips move but nothing come out. "I should be with my brother!" he growls as I watch his fist fly into the trunk beside my neck.

"I'm n-not holding you back," I say in a shaky voice.

He lowers his brow and breaths through his mouth as he glares at me. "Oh," he says with a wicked smirk, "but, Cherry, you are." Merle's hands keep me pinned to the tree as he shakes his head. "You don't get to be all wounded and make me think you need me!" he hollers an inch from my face. "I don't need you!" he growls. "I _don't_ need you," he repeats as his eyes fall to the leafy grass.

I open my mouth but Merle shakes his head. "You don't getta talk either," he says in a low tone. "I see you day in 'n' day out," he nearly whispers. "You play coy with me—then yesterday—," he scoffs. "You must think I'm some special kinda stupid." Merle's lips curl into the smirk again. "Well, I ain't," he growls. "You act all sweet on me, make me feel like I have to protect you—well, I don't!" he barks and I turn my face as spit flies from his mouth to my cheek. "I don't need to protect you—you're not my job!

"You wanna shoulder to cry on—a man to make the bad things go away?" he asks in a condescending voice. He hunches over as he looks at me with his eyes hooded. "It ain't gonna be me!" he hollers. "I'm _not_ that man," Merle says as he lowers his head.

I try to push away, but he takes my wrists and pins them above my head. "You wanna man who's gonna protect you and make sure you're warm at night? Maybe kiss you nicely like in them romance novels?" Merle's nose crinkles. "Shit, you probably get wet just thinkin' 'bout that." I grimace at his words.

"That's not how it works, Cherry. No man's gonna swoop in and save you—not today 'n' not tomorrow!" He shakes his head in disgust. "I ain't your knight in shinin' armour," he says lowly. "I'm the man who takes the lil' princess," he says as I stare in his eyes. "I'm the guy who pillages the towns and kills the children because I ain't got no mercy."

I shake my head. "No, you're not—,"

Merle adjusts his hands so only one holds both my wrists down and he grabs my jaw tightly. "I _don't_ need you." He pushes my head back. "I'm not chasin' after some prairie-runner who don't know the goddamn difference between need and want." I feel my eyes water as his touch changes when he takes my chin in his hand. "I don't need you, but I sure as hell want you," he says before his lips touch mine.

I feel myself struggle for a second and then give into his tongue. Merle keeps my body beneath him tightly as he releases my hands. As if it were all instinct, my hands grab at him; one resting on the base of his neck and the other holding his whiskered cheek.

He pulls away abruptly and shakes his head. "I want you," he repeats breathlessly before releasing me and turning away.

I take a gulp of air and shake my head as my nervous sweat falls from my temples. "You're like poison, Cherry…" Merle turns back to me, his voice quiet and gentle. "A sweet poison," he adds as he shakes his head. "That can kill a man, you know," he says. "You're dangerous for me."

I watch him with my eyes wincing. I'm not sure how to take it all in—whether this was something I should be terrified of or find incredibly arousing.

He shakes his head and rubs the back of his neck as his chest rises and falls to his breath. Merle's brow furrows. "Somethin' like that needs to be taken all at once." His eyes look me up and down. "Leave nothin' behind for another man to take." Merle briskly steps back to me. He furrows his brow at me. "I'll be savin' lives, Cherry," he says with a smirk holding my face and bringing his lips to mine.

I feel Merle's hand tangle into my hair and give a hard tug making me moan. He kisses my neck as I expose it. "Protectin' guys like me from being sucked into you," he whispers in my ear quietly as he rips at the button on my pants. "You're toxic," he says as he reaches into them. I gasp as I feel his finger slide between my lips. Merle places his free hand over my mouth worried I might make a noise.

"You want this, don't you?" he asks as I roll my eyes back while his finger laps over and over in surprisingly gentle circles. I feel my eyes roll back at the sensation. Merle stops abruptly and jerks me back to the moment. "Don't you?" he growls.

"Yes," I hear myself say as I look back at him.

His hands pull at my pants as he smirks. "Good." Merle looks down at my newly exposed flesh and nods. "Turn 'round," he says and I oblige. I feel his cool hands reach up my shirt and unhook my bra and then I hear him unzip. He reaches around me; one hand braced on my hip as the other goes back to work on my sweet spot. I let out a weak moan and he chuckles. "Gettin' fired up, already," he says and I nod faintly. My legs bend slightly as pleasure weakens them. He changes his strokes from circles to swipes; alternating the pressure and making my mouth hang open.

I feel Merle's hand lift from my hip and push on my back. As I bend, I feel him enter me. Over my shoulder I hear him gasp at the sensation. I close my eyes as he slowly begins his thrusting. With each push back, he lets out a grunt and tightens his grip on my hip while his hand continues to play with me. He struggles to keep his slow pace—he doesn't want this to be over quickly. He wants to enjoy it.

My legs tremble below as I struggle to keep from the edge. Suddenly, Merle guides me to all fours and I moan as I grip the ground below me. "You think this is it?" he asks. "Just you wait, Cherry."

I jump as his hand spanks me and Merle chuckles again. He smacks again; harder and louder making me let out a whimper. I take a deep breath and moan as he continues thrusting. His hand reaches up and cups my breast; his fingers gliding over the nipple, teasing it and making it stiffen to a painfully pleasurable point. His hand then begins kneading the flesh before his fingers finally pay attention to the point.

He pulls my hair bringing my ear up to his lips. "Say you need me," he says lowly. Merle lets out a hiss as he accidentally pulls out and quickly re-enters. I burrow my face into my arms with ecstasy running through my veins. My eyes look out to the trees as if to make sure we're safe—but I see nothing as I bob back and forth to his mercy.

I pull at the grass below me. "I need you," I whisper on a breath. "I need—," my breath hitches, "—you," I say louder as the excitement throws my voice. I gasp and release a shaky breath as his thrusts quicken. Merle lowers both hands to my hips and uses the leverage to pumps harder. I can hear him let out small struggled moans at his own pleasure. Suddenly, it hits me. My chin lowers to my chest and my body shakes with the intensity of my orgasm. I let out a delayed holler of euphoria and it ends in a dwindling moan as I spasm below him.

Merle continues, not yet finished himself. I feel my legs shake uncontrollably as he finally receives his own release. His body jerks spasmodically as he grunts and groans accordingly before bracing himself. He lets out a loud groan and I feel his body collapse onto mine; his forehead resting on the base of my neck as his heavy breaths land on my still clothed back. As if to let me know he hasn't forgotten about me, he reaches his hand back around and pets my lower lips making me jump and let out a gasp as I shut my eyes. It was raw and unprepared for the attention.

Merle lets out a chuckle before he breathlessly rises and pulls his pants back up. I open my eyes and moan once more before rising to my own wobbly legs. I carefully bend and bring my pants up with a wince.

Merle takes a deep breath and looks at me with a smile. "Wasn't as bad as you thought it'd be, was it?" he asks. I shake my head as I struggle to find my voice. I take a step and wince again. I hear Merle chuckle before he steps towards me. "Been awhile?" he asks.

I furrow my brow and smirk. "What do you think?"

He shakes his head and takes two steps back as he examines me. "I didn't know your skin could get that red, Cherry—,"

"That neck of yours is pretty bright too," I nearly whisper and Merle shakes his head with his smile.

"That's why I like you," he says as he turns away. "Never afraid to call it like it is," he calls out as he begins leading our way back to the cabin.

As we leave the trees and gain sight of the cabin ahead, something is off. I furrow my brow and take a few hurried steps and feel my stomach churn. The screen door is wide open.

Without a second thought, I race towards the cabin; my heart is throbbing in my throat as I think the worst has happened. I can hear Merle running behind me as I push myself up the steps. I rush into the open door and look into the kitchen and then down to the living room; no Michael.

"Michael!" I call and, suddenly, my mouth has been clasped.

"Shh, Cherry," Merle says in my ear. "We don't know if it's still here."

I squirm away from him and race down the hall. I swing open Michael's bedroom door and see nothing but a bed and nightstand. I feel my mouth salivate with the threat of being sick. I quickly open my bedroom door and want to fall to my knees. "Michael," I call as I open the bathroom door and nothing but a toilet, sink, and tub stare back at me.

I push my hands through my hair as I struggle to keep myself calm. _Under the sink_. I race with my tired legs and drop to my knees as I see the cupboard wide open. I cover my mouth and shake my head as tears streak my face.

"H-he was there," I say as Merle steps towards me. "He was dragged out," I add as I see pots and pans knocked from the cupboard and onto the floor. I wipe under my eyes and take a deep breath before rising back to my feet. He knew something was out there—something that he knew he should hide from. My eyes fall onto the table and narrow as they read words in chicken scratch on a yellow post-it note.

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><p><em>We got the boy. <em>

_You ever want to see him again, we suggest you bring the girl. _

_One mile north at the old farmhouse, you can't miss it._

_Be there by dusk or else..._

_-Joe_

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><p><strong>First time writing something along these explicit lines for public view... <strong>

**Hopefully it was okay... a little saucy? Too... S'n'M-ish?**

**Anyway, the next update may take a little longer than anticipated. **

**I wouldn't say it'll take as long as a week, but probably in the next three-five days.**

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><p><strong>Please let me know what you think, how I'm doing and what I could do better :)<strong>

**Reviews are much welcomed and always appreciated!**

**~MsBBSue**


	10. Chapter 10

**Disclaimer: I do not own anything of the Walking Dead series (both comic book and television), and I do not claim to own any of these characters other than my own original character. This is a story I have written and I am in no way, shape, or form making any sort of profit from it. I am poor. I might even be more so now having written this.**

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><p><strong>A nice long chapter for those of you who waited so patiently!<strong>

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><p><strong>Chapter Ten<strong>

He argued with me before we left. He said we should wait longer before heading there—something about waiting just made my blood curdle, though. I needed Michael. I needed him in my arms and safe—not with this _Joe_.

"They want you, Cherry," Merle says as we trek through the woods. "They want you and they knew you'd come if they took that lil' boy—,"

"What do you want me to say?" I ask as I turn to him. "Forget about my nephew and let's leave?" I shake my head and roll my eyes as I continue walking. "I'd give my life for him—,"

"You just might be." I hear Merle sigh. "You know, there's worse things than death, Cherry," he says in an almost bored voice. "Torture," he adds. "Rape, too."

I furrow my brow. "If it gets him back then I don't care," I say through the side of my mouth.

"What if they don't give 'im back?" Merle asks. "What if that boy's dead before we even get there?" He speed quickens as he catches up to my side. He grips my arm and pulls me to a stop. "This could be a trap, Cherry."

I wriggle my arm free and scoff before marching on. "If you don't want to come; don't, I'm not forcing you." I push my hair out of my face. "I'm not going anywhere until that boy is in my arms safe and unharmed."

"They must have been scouting the area," he says as he slowly starts walking again. "Must've been lookin' through the trees and keepin' a tally on when we leave and how long we're gone." He shakes his head. "They're smart—,"

"What makes you think there's more than one?"

"They said _we_—,"

"But only signed one name?"

"The head of the group," Merle says as we step out of the tree line and into a field. I shake my head and look out at the land.

The note was right; you couldn't miss the farmhouse. It stood out in the open like a target—it was even coloured the same with red trim and white siding. I take a short step towards it and stop. "What're you plannin' to do when you get there?" Merle asks. He gives a weak raspy chuckle. "They're gonna see you and laugh when you tell them you're takin' the boy back."

I shake my head. "You have the rifle," I say with a furrowed brow. "I tell them we want him back; if they don't give him, you shoot them—,"

"_Me_?" Merle takes a step back. "What in the hell makes you think I'm a part of this?"

"_They_ said to bring the girl—," I shrug, "—which means they're addressing you, Merle."

He shakes his head and lets out a sigh. Suddenly, something sounds off behind him in the trees. Just as I catch the glimpse of a figure, Merle lets out a holler as a burlap sack blinds him and then I holler as one comes over my own head.

"We knew you'd come," a rumble of a voice says with a wheezed chuckle at the end. "I guess you're wondering what's going on," he says before something pulls at the sack on my head. They had tied my hands behind my back after the sack flew down over my face. I walked for nearly an hour before they had taken me into a building. I lower my chin and let out a grunt as the sack pulls under my chin and finally releases.

"Ah, much better," he says. I furrow my brow at the silver haired man. He smirks. "The name's Joe—but I guess you figured that one out," he says.

"Where's Merle?" I ask as my eyes look around the empty room.

"You mean that rowdy one?" he asks with a cocked eyebrow. Merle didn't go down without a fight. I could hear them beating on him before he finally gave in to their force. "He's around," Joe says with a low nod and a false concern hooding his eyes. Candlelight flickers across his high cheekbones and makes the grey in his beard dance. I take a deep breath and lick my lips. "Well, they weren't lyin'," he says with a smirk. "You're 'bout as pretty as they come, aren't you?"

I give a long blink and clench my jaw. "Where's the boy?" I ask. They didn't need to know his name.

Joe lets out a weak laugh. "Straight to business—quite the admirable decision for a person in your situation. Takin' charge of something that's a little out of your control," he says with a slow nod. "Here's the thing, sweetheart," he says as he leans forward in his chair, "you've caught the attention of my men." I watch as his blue eyes bounce their focus to my eyes. "Now, as the man they look to for guidance in a world that is ours for the taking, I need to make sure they stay happy." I swallow hard. "There ain't much to it," he says with his eyes slightly widened. "Sometimes, I have to be sure we have enough food—though they usually find their own. I just have to make sure they have what they need."

"They _need_ something from me," I say. There was no question, really. A group of men wandering Georgia—chances were they took what ever they wanted. Joe watches me for a moment. Something about his demeanour changes and he almost seems uncomfortable.

"Need is a strong word," he finally says. "I guess… _want_ would best describe what they're looking for from you." I nod and take my eyes off of him and plant them on the floor. He shrugs. "It doesn't have to be something terrible, sweetheart," he says as his hand rests on my knee as if to comfort me. "You could enjoy it—hell, you might even want more of it." My eyes dart back to him and he lets out a chuckle as he takes his hand back. "Really, it just depends on what kind of mindset you go into this with."

"What about the boy?" I ask.

Joe shrugs again. "You'll see him. We have him where no one can hurt him… a place where he can't hurt anyone either." I take a deep breath. "He's in a safe place; nice and cozy," he adds.

"Fine," I say.

Suddenly, Joe rises from his seat. "Lou, Billy," he calls and two men enter the room. "All systems a go," he says with a smile and the men nod. I feel them lift me from my seat as unseen hands rip at the rope around my wrists. My body is cold; my mind is numb.

They lead me through the house, in a hallway and down a flight of stairs. As we enter the main floor hall, I see Merle come out of a room with his hands still tied. His left eye is swollen and bottom lip fat and split from the beating before. His eyes widen at the sight of me as they push him down the hall.

As we leave the house, I see that we are at the farmhouse—the world is dark, almost as black as the hearts of these men. I struggle with a step as one of the men push me a little too hard. My hands fall out in front of me and—with the sudden movement—the man on my right takes it as a threat. His fist flies into my ribcage and I keel over with the blow.

"Leave her alone!" I hear Merle holler out from the back. Suddenly, he grunts with his own punch. As I straighten, the man who hit me smiles. The one still behind taps my back and I continue moving towards the tree line they're leading us to. Once past the brush, the man behind me takes my wrists into his hands and holds them in place. Joe steps out in front as Merle stands still bound beside me.

"That lil' boy of yours isn't a necessity to us," Joe says simply with a shrug. "We aren't lookin' for trouble. We just have needs like any other person," he adds as if we were talking about breathing.

I shake my head. "Give him back first," I growl.

"We'll give him back once you come with us—,"

"She ain't goin' with you," Merle says with his good eye narrowed.

Joe rubs his face as he sighs. "Then I guess you don't really care about what happens to him—,"

"Give him back!" I holler as the man behind me keeps me from pouncing. I wriggle and squirm making my bangs fall into my eyes. "I said I'd do it!" I call out as Joe begins walking away. "Just—just give him back," I say as my voice falters.

"She ain't doin' nothing," Merle growls as he leans as far as his restraining man allows him.

"Let me tell you something… Merle, was it?" Joe waves a finger at him. "She's gonna do it either way, there is no other outcome of this." He takes a breath and furrows his brow. "She can do it willingly—no fightin' and take it in strides like the good lil' woman she can be. When things are over and done with, she gets the kid back, no questions asked." I swallow hard. "Or," he says, "we kill the boy, kill you, have our way with her and then kill her. Now, the latter is something I don't want things to come down to and you, seeing as you're so furious with it all, probably don't want that either." He shrugs again. "I'm tellin' you, Merle, she's gonna do it, but she has a choice of what will happen afterwards."

"This is _my_ decision," I spit as I look at Merle.

He shakes his head. "They'll kill us anyway, Cherry," Merle says before thrashing. "I knew guys like this—they were trouble before the end and even more after!"

Joe gives him a long stare before blinking and turning his eyes onto me. "What's your poison, _Cherry_?"

"I said I'd do it," I growl lowly.

"Okay," he says with a nod and the man behind me releases my arms. I stumble forward and as I regain my balance, Joe lifts my chin for a better view of my face. "It'll be a shame when Billy gets a hold of you. He likes to hit and bite." He tisks and shakes his head. "Mark up that pretty lil' face of yours," Joe says with eyes almost wincing.

"Where is he?" I ask and Joe cocks his head. "Where's Michael?" I take a rushed step towards him. "If I go with you, I want to make sure he's alive. I want him with Merle—somewhere safe—somewhere I know they'll be okay when I get back!"

Joe nods and takes my hand gently. "It's okay, Cherry," he says with a smile. "I'll let you see your boy. Just come with me like a good girl and I'll show him to you real quick." I nod and flinch as his hand comes up to my cheek; his fingers wrapping around my jaw line as his thumb wipes away tears I was unaware had fallen. "There's nothing to be afraid of," he assures me, but I know it's not true. Joe tugs gently at my arm as he takes a step away from the group.

"What about Merle?" I ask carefully with my feet stopping in the gravel road.

Joe cranes his neck out to Merle and stretches his face. "My boys'll make sure he's fine." He tugs at my hand again forcing me to take another step. "I'll show you Michael and then have Harley take him out to your friend here." He tugs again and I follow. "Everything will be fine. Just cooperate and you might even have a good time," Joe adds with a smile.

I nod stiffly and follow. He leads me into the trees; it's dark and cold, all I can think about is how scared Michael must be—whether he's hungry, thirsty, or hurt. I wipe away a tear as it trickles down my cheek. I take a shaky breath and jump as I hear grunts and groans coming from the direction we came.

Joe tightens his grip on my hand. "Don't even think about it," he says. "Merle has some lessens to learn. My boys are just makin' sure they teach him right."

I take another breath and nod faintly as Joe continues to lead me further into the woods. "I don't hear him," I say out loud, my thoughts and spoken words mixed together as all that races through my head is Michael.

"We're almost there," Joe says as he turns his head over his shoulder part way. I raise my chin as I take a double breath to stifle a cry. I rub my eyes and stumble as my tears blur my vision. This is what the world had come down to; taking and giving—though giving always seemed to be optional.

"Here we are," Joe says as he places a hand under my ribs stopping me just short of an eight foot drop.

"W-where—," my eyes fall into the dark hole and I feel my stomach churn. My knees buckle, but Joe catches me before I drop. I want to close my eyes, but I cannot will myself to shut them. I open my mouth with a cry but not even that comes out. I groan as I look down at the short stature in the deep, dark hole. I let out a howl and feel my body give out. "Michael," I cry and Joe attempts to lift me back to my feet.

Michael was no longer himself. I had failed to do the one thing I had promised. I allowed him to turn. I scramble to my feet and turn towards Joe. "How could you do that? He was just a boy! How could you let him turn!" I scream as I pummel his chest, my crying making my voice scratchy and nearly incoherent. Joe takes my hands, but I manage to slip one free. "He was just a little boy!" I holler before slapping him across his salt and pepper bearded face.

Joe's head turns with the smack and his eyes slowly look down at me; I feel his backhand land on my cheek with such force my neck cracks. "I said he was here. I said he was safe." He shakes his head. "You never once asked if he was alive." I turn my head as I hear another holler. "Now, you're gonna do what you promised, Cherry. Don't make me hurt you," he says with a raised brow.

"Merle," I holler as I begin backing away. Joe grips my forearm and pulls me towards him. "Merle—," his hand flies up and across my mouth muffling my calls for help.

"You should've listened to him—not that it would've done you any good," Joe says with a shakes of his head. "He was right about us, though," he admits.

I attempt to push him into the pit with Michael, but he's too strong. "You ain't tryin' to do what I think you are, are you?" he asks as he holds tight. He flips me so I face the pit. "I could easily toss you in there and have that lil' boy do the rest of the work for me." I swallow back a cry as Michael's reanimated corpse growls and claws as he sees me. My knees buckle again and Joe holds me upright. "Now," he says with his cheek pressing against my ear, "you do as you said you would and I'll put the lil' bastard out of his misery."

He flips me back to him, his hands holding onto my wrists as I try to pull away. "You mind as well think of your boyfriend as being dead," he says with an unnerving ease in his voice. "He ain't gonna come and save you. No one saves anybody anymore." Joe smirks as I struggle to free my hands. "We can do this the easy way or the hard way; I'm leavin' it up to you."

My breaths hitch as I look back at Joe with wild eyes. People had two reactions to life or death; fight or flight. I already tried flight…

Joe lets out a grunt as my knee rises to his groin. He keels over, my hands now released as I drive his head down on my knee. He falls down, his nose bleeding, but he's still alive—he's still conscious.

"You lil' bitch," he growls as he quickly lunges forward and grabs my legs making me fall to the ground. I can hear Michael groaning below, his once sweet voice replaced with rasp and rawness. I close my eyes tight and turn my face away as I see a fist fly up. I feel it hit my cheekbone and, for a moment, I think I may have gone deaf.

My hands attempt to push Joe's weight off of me, but he continues with his fists. Left hook in the kidney, right hook at the ribs, another hit to the face and then there is nothing. Blackness surrounds me. I cannot tell if this is death or merely sleep. All I know is that my body aches are nothing in comparison to my emotional pain. If I am not dead, I _wish_ I were.

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><p><strong>Please let me know what you think, how I'm doing and what I could do better :)<strong>

**Reviews are much welcomed and always appreciated!**

**~MsBBSue**


	11. Chapter 11

**Disclaimer: I do not own anything of the Walking Dead series (both comic book and television), and I do not claim to own any of these characters other than my own original character. This is a story I have written and I am in no way, shape, or form making any sort of profit from it. I am poor. I might even be more so now having written this.**

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><p><strong>A very short chapter, but I felt if there was more, this little bit would be over looked. Sorry for the extreme curtness of it.<strong>

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><p><strong>Chapter Eleven<strong>

I claw at the ground like a wild beast as I holler like an animal. My mind won't allow my words to come out coherently, but Merle gets the picture; I don't want to leave. He struggles to pull me by my legs and when he loses grip I scramble up and head back to the pit. Joe's unconscious body lies a few feet away; Merle had managed to knock him out before anything could happen.

"Oh, no you don't," he growls as his arms wrap around my waist and lift me. I kick my legs out and scream. I attempt to free my hands, but his grip will not ease to my struggles. "He's gone," he barks in my ear. Merle lowers me back to the ground, his arms still wrapped around me. "He's gone," he whispers on a breath.

As I push away, Merle releases me and I fall to my knees. I lower my chin as my head and shoulders bounce with my sobs. He was only a boy; so young, so innocent. My hands dig into the earth and toss whatever they hold as I let out an anguished holler. Every time I open my mouth to put words to my feelings, it comes out as growls and howls.

I hear Merle step towards me, but I ignore him. I don't want him; I want Michael.

He kneels behind me and presses his forehead onto the base of my neck. "He's gone," he says again, his voice faltering. I hear him sniffle as I turn my head partway to him. Merle's chin rests on my shoulder as one of his arms wraps around my stomach. "I'm sorry, Cherry," he whispers.

I shake him off and wobble onto my feet. I wipe my nose and look down into the pit where the boy who used to be my nephew stands clawing at the walls of his grave. I feel my lips quiver as my eyes burn at the sight of him.

"Where's the rifle?" I ask mustering all the strength I can.

"They took it," Merle says as he rises.

I walk over to Joe and feels his pants for a weapon—anything I could use to put Michael out of this misery. As I straight, my hand grips a hunter's knife. Before Merle can say anything, I'm lowering myself into the pit. I feel his hands swipe at me, but they're too late. I land on the ground with a grunt and straighten as Michael limps towards me.

My face contorts in a cry as I watch his once sweet face resemble one of a monster. I push him back as he lunges at me. Children should not be allowed to turn—they should be immune to this. I let out a whimper as he comes back my way. With all the strength I have—both emotional and physical—I pin the small body against the dirt walls.

My arm holds him steady across his chest as he lets out a high pitched groan. I raise the knife in my hand and shake my head. I don't have the strength for this.

I lower my head and fight between my loss and his mercy. I kiss the top of his head as his mouth opens for a bite. "I'm sorry, Mike," I whisper as I wind the knife back before jabbing the blade into his forehead. I fall with his lifeless body.

My body trembles with my cries as his head sits on my lap and my free hand runs through his curls. I was supposed to protect him—I was supposed to keep him safe. I burrow my face into his hair and cry like a blubbering idiot. This was what life had become; one moment you were there, the next, you were gone. I rub his lifeless back in circles as I pull his cold body towards me. He was so young… too young to know pain… too young to know harm…

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><p>As we walk, Merle carries Michael's limp body in his arms. I cannot look at him; all I can imagine is the poor boy during his last moments. How scared was he—did he suffer—it's my fault. A tear rolls down my cheek as we continue walking. Suddenly, I hear Merle stop.<p>

As I turn to him, he looks up at a huge oak. He nods and lowers Michael to the ground. "Go find some rocks," he says with a grunt. I furrow my brow. Merle cocks an eyebrow at me. "Go find some rocks," he repeats, his voice almost harsh. "'Bout the sixe of your fist, if you can," he adds before readjusting Michael's body.

I hesitantly nod and wander around picking up as many stones as I can manage to carry. As I come back, Merle had already placed rocks around the small body. I press my lips together as I try to stifle a cry. He straightens and takes the rocks from my hands. "Go find some flowers," he says as he lowers back to the body. "Nice ones," he adds.

I nod and wander off again. I pull at some speckled wood lilies. As I make my way back to the two, I bend and pick three yellow stargrass flowers. As I put them together in a makeshift bouquet I watch as Merle places Michael's hands into one another over his lap.

Merle's eyes look to me and he reaches out for the flowers. I step towards him and hand them off. The man takes a deep breath and places them between Michael's fingers before he rises to his feet. It is Michael's grave; his final resting place. In the middle of nowhere, my nephew lies surrounded by stones and flowers in his hands.

Merle stands at my side and places an arm around my shoulder. "Ain't nobody should have to do this for a child," he says softly.

I nod as my chin quivers.

"We do this for our own," he declares and I nod again. He pulls me into his chest. I can feel him struggle with his breathing as he tries to clear his throat. "Ain't nobody should have to do this," he says again, this time, his voice hitching with a cry. I nod and wrap my arms around him. Merle shakes his head as a hand rises to his face. "He was a good kid," he says and I nod with my head against him. I didn't want to see him cry; a man like him couldn't be seen crying.

Merle attempts to clear his throat again. "They're lucky I didn't kill 'em," he adds as if to redeem himself. I shake my head. An eye for an eye leaves everyone blind.

We stand at the sight for a long time. At one point, Merle kneels before Michael and kisses the boy's cheek before covering the knife wound with a handkerchief. As he rises, he looks to me and nods as if to signal we are ready to move on.

I take a deep breath and give one last look at the little body beneath the oak tree. People wouldn't know his name. They wouldn't know where he was from or what kind of person he was. I shake my head and turn away before my eyes allow more tears to be shed on this sorrowful evening.

As Merle comes to my side, we walk away worse off than the day the world ended.

This day marked the moment _my_ world ended.

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><p><strong>Please let me know what you think, how I'm doing and what I could do better :)<strong>

**Reviews are much welcomed and always appreciated!**

**~MsBBSue**


	12. Chapter 12

**Disclaimer: I do not own anything of the Walking Dead series (both comic book and television), and I do not claim to own any of these characters other than my own original character. This is a story I have written and I am in no way, shape, or form making any sort of profit from it. I am poor. I might even be more so now having written this.**

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><p><strong>Chapter Twelve<strong>

We spent only one night in the cabin after coming back. I couldn't sleep. I had grown far too accustom to my nephew's head nuzzled into my chest and my arms wrapped around him. I had awoken three times, twice with the idea that Michael was there and the third and final time, I woke in a feverish panic. The events of the night had replayed in a jumbled mess during my dream. Nearly five months of no dreams and the first one I have is of my nephew's face growling and groaning back at me with dull milky eyes.

Merle woke up nearly two hours later. The swelling on his face was so bad his eye couldn't stay open. A bruise painted his right cheekbone with blues and purples while the deep red-black of dried blood tainted his split lip and danced across his nose. He looked awful.

When he saw me he only shook his head and it was as if there was an understanding between us. We couldn't stay here. This was Michael's abduction point. The walls were tainted with ugly pictures and imagined screams. We packed as much as our bags would allow us, and left before the sun could rise.

Merle and I did not speak for a very long time. We merely walked next to one another and communicated through pointing fingers and silent hand gestures. Talking was too much. I was afraid if I spoke, my voice would crack and show just how brittle I had become. When we would sleep, I stayed as far from Merle as he would allow me.

When he would pass out and that is when I would cry. I cried so hard one night, I ended up becoming sick. The cream corn I had eaten that night sat only a few feet away from where my head fell before my own sleep had taken me. In the morning, crows sat eating at the cold sick and made me want to throw up once again.

On the seventh day of our wandering, Merle finally broke our unspoken truce of silence.

It started off with a smirk, his eyes planted on the ground as he walked until, suddenly, he broke into a slight chuckle that made his shoulders and head bounce.

I turn my head to him with my brow furrowed. Merle looks to me and shakes his head. As I nudge him to tell me what's going on, he cracks up again.

As he takes a breath, he nods. "What did the leper say to the prostitute?" he asks. I think for a moment and shrug. "Keep the tip," he says before laughing again.

Rather than cringing with the punch line, I smirk. Merle shakes hit head as his shoulders bounce again to his laughter. "Keep the tip," he repeats. He looks down at his feet with the uneven ground. "I was told that joke a day before all o' this shit started," Merle says with a slight bitterness. I watch as he brings his face up and gives me a sideways glance. "I didn't get it 'til now," he adds.

I shake my head. "That's a pretty bad joke," I say with a bit of a grin.

"You can do better?" he challenges.

I think for a moment and furrow my brow before speaking. "What does a nosey pepper do?"

Merle makes a face and shakes his head. "I don't know."

"Get jalapeño business," I say with a smirk and bob of attitude. Merle palms his face with a hum of laughter.

"_That's_ a bad joke," he says.

I grin and nod my head. "It was Michael's favourite," I say and Merle nods with a smile. As we reach the top of the uneven hill, I take a deep breath and sigh. The fall air was cool and soothing on my bruised body. Merle's fat lip had finally gone down in swelling, but his eye was still puffed out. "Where do we go from here?" I ask with a gentle shrug.

Merle's hands hold the straps of his backpack and he shakes his head. "We keep movin'," he says with a sure nod. He keeps his eyes focused on something in the distance. "We gotta keep movin'." Merle's shoulders turn my way, but his face stays fixed in the directions his eyes won't leave. "You wanted to head north," he says with a shallow nod. "Head north. Get as far as you can 'n' then find me when you know what's there."

I furrow my brow. What did he mean? I take a step back and shake my head. "_Find_ you?"

He nods, his shoulders turning away. "Let me know if it's better or worse—,"

"Why would I need to find you—you're going to be with me—aren't you?" I feel my breath hitch as I try to process the moment. How could he even think about leaving me in a time like this? How could he tell me to go on without him—without anything left?

Merle shakes his head. "I need to find my brother," he says quietly. He keeps his eyes out on the horizon as the sun sits high in the sky. "I need to make sure he's okay." Finally, his blue orbs look onto me, a smirk making them crinkle at the edges. "The time is right, Cherry," he says.

"I could go with you—,"

"You're not meant to," he says simply as he looks away. "You're meant to find out what this world has become—not what kind of terrible things someone like me'll do."

I shake my head. "No," I hear myself say. "No," I repeat firmly. "You are not allowed to leave me." I feel my eyes burn up as tears threaten to come down.

Merle shakes his head again. "I have to find him," he says, his voice terribly gentle.

"Don't leave me," I nearly whisper. Merle's eyes dart to me and, suddenly, I am taken back to Atlanta on the roof. "Don't you leave me," I repeat and feel my heart drop as I realize there is no one around to come to my aid after he leaves.

Merle takes a deep breath and furrows his brow. "You'll make it, Cherry," he says. He gives an effortless shrug. "You don't need me."

I swallow back a cry. I could tell him I loved him, but we both knew those three words held no power when they were false. There was no love between us; only understanding. I push my hair out of my face as the cool wind blows. I could lie and tell him I couldn't live without him—but I could and so could he.

I sniffle and shake my head as my bottom lip quivers. I turn my back to him and hold myself. "I could go with you," I say quietly hoping he does not hear the whimper in my voice. "You didn't even think to ask—but I could. _We_ could go."

"There ain't no we," he says after a moment. I fight the nod my head wishes to perform. "There's only you and I." I feel his hand touch my shoulder and I want to shake him away, but I don't. I'm tired of fighting—tired of rejecting everything.

I quickly wipe my eyes as the tears release. I let out a small laugh, but it falls short and sounds as a cough. "Funny how it hurts," I say with my back still to him. "You'd think it would be just another chip off the armour I've been building… but this penetrates deeply… it hurts," I say softly.

"Which is why we need to separate," Merle says and I turn towards him with a furrowed brow. "I don't want to know what it's like to watch you die."

I bite down on my lip as another tear trickles down my face. I give a gentle grin as he wipes it away. "It could be beautiful," I say softly and barely flinch at the falseness of my words.

Merle shakes his head with a smirk. "Look at us," he says. "We ain't meant to be beautiful, Cherry. Ain't nothin' we do together'll ever be beautiful." I let out a sad chuckle as he shakes his head. "Might as well leave it like this… this is the best we'll ever look together." I wipe my eyes as I smirk. He was beaten and I was a sniffling idiot. There was no tragic elegance between us—never had been, never would be. Merle looks down at me and shakes his head. "We ain't star-crossed lovers either. I'm no Romeo…" He shrugs. "We were meant to use each other in a world where takin' is the only policy." I nod and feel his arms wrap around me in a hug. "I've taken enough of you," he says softly.

As he pulls away, my arms hold him firmly in place. "You never took," I say as I release him. "I gave," I add as his eyes hood over.

He nods and readjusts his pack. As Merle takes a step back, he examines me for a moment. A crooked smile plays at his face. "If we happen upon each other in the future, I'll take more," he says before a chuckle. His hand rises to his split lip as a pained expression makes his smile disappear. I laugh and, suddenly, he's gone.

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><p><strong>Another shorter chapter... sorry about that...<strong>

* * *

><p><strong>Please let me know what you think, how I'm doing and what I could do better :)<strong>

**Reviews are much welcomed and always appreciated!**

**~MsBBSue**


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